HV 


UC-NRLF 


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1  DEFENCE    OF 

their  own  house,  in  the  night  time,  without  any  provocation,  without 
one  moment's  warning,  se;it  by  the  Murderer  to  join  the  Assembly  of  the 
Just ;  and  even  the  laboring  man,  sojourning  within  their  gates,  received 
the  fatal  blade  into  his  breast,  and  survives  through  the  mercy,  not  of 
the  murderer,  but  of  God. 

,  For  William  Freeman,  as  a  murderer,  I  have  no  commission  to  speak. 
\  If  he  had  silver  and  gold  accumulated  with  the  frugality  of  Crcesus,  and 
I  should  pour  it  all  at  m}'  feet,  I  would  not  stand  an  hour  between  him 
i  and  the  Avenger.  But  for  the  innocent,  it  is  my  right,  my  duty  to  speak. 
I  If  this  sea  of  blood  was  innocently  shed,  then  it  is  my  duty  to  stand  be- 
';  side  him  until  his  steps  lose  their  hold  upon  the  scaffold. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  kill,"  is  a  commandment  addressed  not  to  him  alone, 
but  to  me,  to  you,  to  the  Court,  and  to  the  whole  community.  There 
are  no  exceptions  from  that  commandment,  at  least  in  civil  life,  save  those 
of  self-defence,  and  capital  punishment  for  crimes,  in  the  due  and  just 
administration  of  the  law.  There  is  not  only  a  question  then  whether 
the  prisoner  has  shed  the  blood  of  his  fellow  man,  but  the  question, 
whether  we  shall  unlawfully  shed  his  blood.  I  should  be  guilty  of  mur- 
der if,  in  my  present  relation,  I  saw  the  executioner  waiting  for  an  in- 
sane man,  and  failed  to  say,  or  failed  to  do  in  his  behalf,  all  that  my 
ability  allowed.  I  think  it  has  been  proved  of  the  Prisoner  at  the  bar, 
that,  during  all  this  long  and  tedious  trial,  he  has  had  no  sleepless  nights, 
and  that  even  in  the  day  time,  when  he  retires  from  these  halls  to  his 
lonely  cell,  he  sinks  to  rest  like  a  wearied  child,  on  the  stone  floor,  and 
quietly  slumbers  till  roused  by  the  constable  with  his  staff  to  appear 
again  before  the  Jury,  His  Counsel  enjoy  no  such  repose.  Their 
thoughts  by  day  and  their  dreams  by  night  are  filled  with  oppressive  ap- 
prehensions that,  through  their  inability  or  neglect,  he  may  be  con- 
demned. 

I  am  arraigned  before  you  for  undue  manifestations  of  zeal  and  excite- 
ment. My  answer  to  all  such  charges  shall  be  brief.  When  this  cause 
shall  have  been  committed  to  you,  I  shall  be  happy  indeed  if  it  shall  ap- 
pear that  my  only  error  has  been,  that  I  have  felt  too  much,  thought  too 
intensely,  or  acted  too  faithfully. 

If  my  error  would  thus  be  criminal,  how  great  would  yours  be  if  you 
should  render  an  unjust  verdict !  Only  four  months  have  elapsed  since 
an  outraged  People,  distrustful  of  judicial  redress,  doomed  the  prisoner 
to  immediate  death.  Some  of  you  have  confessed  that  you  approved 
that  lawless  sentence.  All  men  now  rejoice  that  the  prisoner  was  saved 
for  this  solemn  trial.  But  this  trial  would  be  as  criminal  as  that  precipi- 
tate sentence,  if  through  any  wilful  fault  or  prejudice  of  yours,  it  should 
prove  but  a  mockery  of  justice.  If  any  prejudice  of  witnesses,  or  the 
imagination  of  Counsel,  or  any  ill-timed  jest  shall  at  any  time  have  di- 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  O 

verted  your  attention,  or  if  any  pre-judgment  which  you  may  have  brought 
into  the  Jury  Box,  or  any  cowardly  fear  of  popular  opinion  shall  have 
operated  to  cause  you  to  deny  to  the  prisoner  that  dispassionate  consid- 
eration of  his  case  which  the  laws  of  God  and  man  exact  of  you,  and  if, 
owing  to  sijch  an  error,  this  wretched  man  falls  from  among  the  living, 
what  will  be  your  crime  ?  You  will  have  violated  the  commandment, 
"  Thou  shalt  not  kill."  It  is  not  the  form  or  letter  of  the  trial  by  Jury 
that  authorizes  you  to  send  your  fellow  man  to  his  dread  account,  but  it 
is  the  spirit  that  sanctifies  that  glorious  institution  ;  and  if,  through  pride, 
passion,  timidity,  weakness,  or  any  cause,  you  deny  the  prisoner  one  iota 
of  all  the  defence  to  which  he  is  entitled  by  the  law  of  the  land,  you 
yourselves,  whatever  his  guilt  may  be,  will  have  broken  the  command- 
ment, '*  Thou  shalt  do  no  murder." 

There  is  not  a  corrupt  or  prejudiced  witness,  there  is  ngt  a  thoughtless 
or  heedless  witness,  who  has  testified  what  was  not  true  in  spirit,  or  what 
was  not  wholly  true,  or  who  has  suppressed  any  truth,  who  has  not  of- 
fended against  the  same  injunction. 

Nor  is  the  Court  itself  above  that  commandment.  If  these  Judges 
have  been  influenced  by  the  excitement  which  has  brought  this  vast  as- 
semblage here,  and  under  such  influence,  or  under  any  other  influence, 
have  committed  voluntary  error,  and  have  denied  to  the  prisoner  or  shall 
hereafter  deny  to  him  the  benefit  of  any  fact  or  any  principle  of  law,  then 
this  Court  will  have  to  answer  for  the  deep  transgression,  at  that  bar  at 
which  we  all  shall  meet  again.  When  we  appear  there,  none  of  us  can 
plead  that  we  were  insane  and  knew  not  what  we  did  ;  and  by  just  so 
much  as  our  ability  and  knowledge  exceed  those  of  this  wretch,  whom 
the  world  regards  as  a  fiend  in  human  shape,  will  our  guilt  exceed  his  if 
we  be  guilty. 

I  plead  not  for  a  Murderer.  I  have  no  inducement,  no  motive  to  do  so. 
I  have  addressed  my  fellow  citi;zens  in  many  various  relations,  when 
rewards  of  wealth  and  fame  awaited  me.  I  have  been  cheered  on  other 
occasions  by  manifestations  of  popular  approbation  and  sympathy ;  and 
where  there  was  no  such  encouragement,  I  had  at  least  the  gratitude  of 
him  whose  cause  I  defended.  But  I  speak  now  in  the  hearing  of  a  Peo- 
ple who  have  prejudged  the  prisoner,  and  condemned  me  for  pleading  in 
his  behalf.  He  is  a  convict,  a  pauper,  a  negro,  without  intellect,  sense, 
or  emotion.  My  child,  with  an  affectionate  smile,  disarms  my  care-worn 
face  of  its  frown  whenever  I  cross  my  threshold.  The  beggar  in  the 
street  obliges  me  to  give,  because  he  says  "  God  bless  you,"  as  I  pass. 
My  dog  caresses  me  with  fondness  if  I  will  but  smile  on  him.  My  horse 
recognizes  me  when  I  fill  his  manger.  But  what  reward,  what  gratitude, 
what  sympathy  and  affection  can  I  expect  here  ?  There  the  prisoner  sits. 
Look  at  him.     Look  at  the  assemblage  around  you.     Listen  to  their  ill- 


>^^-Jy'. 


■^-  *,V"XW-T. -:T«?  *^i.v -.:.-> 


ARGUMENT 


WILLIAM  H.  SEWAKD. 


DEFENCE  OF   WILLIAM   FREEMAN, 


TRIAL  FOR   MURDER, 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 
L      IVIicrosoft  Corooration 


WILLIAM  n. 

I>A\'1I)  WRIGHT.  '  Coi\mc\  for  Pri.s^iner. 

CHKISTOPHKR  MORGAN.     *^ 

JOHN  TAN  BUREN.  .Hfnrnn/  UtiinnI,  )  ,,  ,  „,.^ 
IJJMAN  SHERWOOD,  hist.  Allormu.     s  ''"  '^' 


K  E  P  O  K  T  K  11     y.\      ^       H  L  A  T  C  H  F  O  K  I). 


FOURTH      EDITION. 


AUBURN,  N.^. 

r.  DERBY  <fc  CO.,  PirBLlMi  t;n*. 


}'<\r. 


http://www.archive.org/details/argumentofwilliaOOsewarich 


ARGUMENT 

OF 

WILLIAM  E  SEWARD. 

U 

nr 

DEFENCE  OF  WILLIAM  FREEMAN, 

OK  BIS 

TRIAL     FOR     MURDER, 

AT   AUBURN, 

JUI^Y  2l8t  and  22nd,  1846. 


REPORTED    BY    S.    BLATCHFORD 


FOURTH    EDITION. 


AUBURN,  N.Y.: 

J.  C.  DEKBY  &  CO ,  PUBLISHERa 
1846. 


HENKT  OLIPHANT.  PKINTBR, 
Book  and  Job  Oflice,  Auburn. 


ARGUMENT. 


May  it  Please  the  Court, 

Gentlemen  of  the  Jury : 

"  Thou  shalt  not  Kill,"  and,  ♦•  Whoso  sheddeth  Man's  blood  by 
Man  shall  his  blood  be  shed,"  are  laws  found  in  the  code  of  that 
People  who,  although  dispersed  and  distracted,  trace  their  history  to 
the  creation  ;  a  history  which  records  that  Murder  was  the  first  of  Hu- 
man Crimes. 

The  first  of  these  precepts  constitutes  a  tenth  part  of  the  Jurispru- 
dence which  God  saw  fit  to  establish,  at  an  early  period,  for  the  govern- 
ment of  all  mankind,  throughout  all  generations.  The  latter,  of  less 
universal  obligation,  is  still  retained  in  our  system,  although  other  States, 
as  intelligent  and  refined,  as  secure  and  peaceful,  have  substituted  for  it 
the  more  benign  principle  that  Good  shall  be  returned  for  Evil.  I  yield 
implicit  submission  to  this  law,  and  acknowledge  the  justice  of  its  pen- 
alty, and  the  duty  of  Courts  and  Juries  to  give  it  effect. 

In  this  case,  if  the  prisoner  be  guilty  of  Murder,  I  do  not  ask  remis- 
sion of  punishment.  If  he  be  guilty,  never  was  Murderer  more  guilty. 
]Efe  has  murdered  not  only  John  G.  Van  Nest,  but  his  hands  are  reek- 
ing with  the  blood  of  other  and  numerous,  and  even  more  pitiable  vic- 
tims. The  slaying  of  Van  Nest,  if  a  crime  at  all,  was  the  cowardly 
crime  of  assassination.-  John  G.  Van  Nest  was  a  just,  upright,  virtuous 
man,  of  middle  age,  of  grave  and  modest  demeanor,  distinguished  by 
especial  marks  of  the  respect  and  esteem  of  his  fellow  citizens.  On  his 
arm  leaned  a  confiding  wife,  and  they  supported,  on  the  one  side,  chil- 
dren to  whom  they  had  given  being,  and,  on  the  other,  aged  and  venera- 
ble parents,  from  whom  they  had  derived  existence.  The  assassination 
of  such  a  man  was  an  atrocious  crime,  but  the  Murderer,  with  more 
than  savage  refinement,  immolated  on  the  same  altar,  in  the  same  hour, 
a  venerable  and  virtuous  matron  of  more  than  three-score  years,  and  her 
daughter,  the  wife  of  Van  Nest,  mother  of  an  unborn  infant.  Nor 
was  this  all.  Providence,  which,  for  its  own  mysterious  purposes,  per- 
mitted these  dreadful  crimes,  in  mercy  suffered  the  same  arm  to  be  raised 
against  the  sleeping  orphan  child  of  the  butchered  parents  and  received 
it  into  Heaven.     A  whole  family,  just,  gentle,  and  pure,  were  thus,  in 


M203819 


4  DEFENCE    OF 

their  own  house,  in  the  night  time,  without  any  provocation,  without 
one  moment's  warning,  sent  by  the  Murderer  to  join  the  Assembly  of  the 
Just ;  and  even  the  laboring  man,  sojourning  within  their  gates,  received 
the  fatal  blade  into  his  breast,  and  survives  through  the  mercy,  not  of 
the  murderer,  but  of  God. 

/    For  William  Freeman,  as  a  murderer,  I  have  no  commission  to  speak. 

\  If  he  had  silver  and  gold  accumulated  with  the  frugality  of  Croesus,  and 
should  pour  it  all  at  my  feet,  I  would  not  stand  an  hour  between  him 

I  and  the  Avenger.     But  for  the  innocent,  it  is  my  right,  my  duty  to  speak. 

I  If  this  sea  of  blood  was  innocently  shed,  then  it  is  my  duty  to  stand  be- 

-  side  him  until  his  steps  lose  their  hold  upon  the  scaffold. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  kill,"  is  a  commandment  addressed  not  to  him  alone, 
but  to  me,  to  you,  to  the  Court,  and  to  the  whole  community.  There 
are  no  exceptions  from  that  commandment,  at  least  in  civil  life,  save  those 
of  self-defence,  and  capital  punishment  for  crimes,  in  the  due  and  just 
administration  of  the  law.  There  is  not  only  a  question  then  whether 
the  prisoner  has  shed  the  blood  of  his  fellow  man,  but  the  question, 
whether  we  shall  unlawfully  shed  his  blood.  I  should  be  guilty  of  mur- 
der if,  in  my  present  relation,  I  saw  the  executioner  waiting  for  an  in- 
sane man,  and  failed  to  say,  or  failed  to  do  in  his  behalf,  all  that  my 
ability  allowed.  I  think  it  has  been  proved  of  the  Prisoner  at  the  bar, 
that,  during  all  this  long  and  tedious  trial,  he  has  had  no  sleepless  nights, 
and  that  even  in  the  day  time,  when  he  retires  from  these  halls  to  his 
lonely  cell,  he  sinks  to  rest  like  a  wearied  child,  on  the  stone  floor,  and 
quietly  slumbers  till  roused  by  the  constable  with  his  staff  to  appear 
again  before  the  Jury.  His  Counsel  enjoy  no  such  repose.  Their 
thoughts  by  day  and  their  dreams  by  night  are  filled  with  oppressive  ap- 
prehensions that,  through  their  inability  or  neglect,  he  may  be  con- 
demned. 

I  am  arraigned  before  you  for  undue  manifestations  of  zeal  and  excite- 
ment. My  answer  to  all  such  charges  shall  be  brief.  When  this  cause 
shall  have  been  committed  to  you,  I  shall  be  happy  indeed  if  it  shall  ap- 
pear that  my  only  error  has  been,  that  I  have  felt  too  much,  thought  too 
intensely,  or  acted  too  faithfully. 

If  my  error  would  thus  be  criminal,  how  great  would  yours  be  if  you 
should  render  an  unjust  verdict !  Only  four  months  have  elapsed  since 
an  outraged  People,  distrustful  of  judicial  redress,  doomed  the  prisoner 
to  immediate  death.  Some  of  you  have  confessed  that  you  approved 
that  lawless  sentence.  All  men  now  rejoice  that  the  prisoner  was  saved 
for  this  solemn  trial.  But  this  trial  would  be  as  criminal  as  that  precipi- 
tate sentence,  if  through  any  wilful  fault  or  prejudice  of  yours,  it  should 
prove  but  a  mockery  of  justice.  If  any  prejudice  of  witnesses,  or  the 
imagination  of  Counsel,  or  any  ill-timed  jest  shall  at  any  time  have  di- 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  O 

verted  your  attention,  or  if  any  pre-judgment  which  you  may  have  brought 
into  the  Jury  Box,  or  any  cowardly  fear  of  popular  opinion  shall  have 
operated  to  cause  you  to  deny  to  the  prisoner  that  dispassionate  consid- 
eration of  his  case  which  the  laws  of  God  and  man  exact  of  you,  and  if, 
owing  to  sijph  an  error,  this  wretched  man  falls  from  among  the  living, 
what  will  be  your  crime  ?  You  will  have  violated  the  commandment, 
"  Thou  shalt  not  kill."  It  is  not  the  form  or  letter  of  the  trial  by  Jury 
that  authorizes  you  to  send  your  fellow  man  to  his  dread  account,  but  it 
is  the  spirit  that  sanctifies  that  glorious  institution  ;  and  if,  through  pride, 
passion,  timidity,  weakness,  or  any  cause,  you  deny  the  prisoner  one  iota 
of  all  the  defence  to  which  he  is  entitled  by  the  law  of  the  land,  you 
yourselves,  whatever  his  guilt  may  be,  will  have  broken  the  command- 
ment, **  Thou  shalt  do  no  murder." 

There  is  not  a  corrupt  or  prejudiced  witness,  there  is  ngt  a  thoughtless 
or  heedless  witness,  who  has  testified  what  was  not  true  in  spirit,  or  what 
was  not  wholly  true,  or  who  has  suppressed  any  truth,  who  has  not  of- 
fended against  the  same  injunction. 

Nor  is  the  Court  itself  above  that  commandment.  If  these  Judges 
have  been  influenced  by  the  excitement  which  has  brought  this  vast  as- 
semblage here,  and  under  such  influence,  or  under  any  other  influence, 
have  committed  voluntary  error,  and  have  denied  to  the  prisoner  or  shall 
hereafter  deny  to  him  the  benefit  of  any  fact  or  any  principle  of  law,  then 
this  Court  will  have  to  answer  for  the  deep  transgression,  at  that  bar  at 
which  we  all  shall  meet  again.  When  we  appear  there,  none  of  us  can 
plead  that  we  were  insane  and  knew  not  what  we  did  ;  and  by  just  so 
much  as  our  ability  and  knowledge  exceed  those  of  this  wretch,  whom 
the  world  regards  as  a  fiend  in  human  shape,  will  our  guilt  exceed  his  if 
we  be  guilty. 

I  plead  not  for  a  Murderer.  I  have  no  inducement,  no  motive  to  do  so. 
I  have  addressed  my  fellow  citizens  in  many  various  relations,  when 
rewards  of  wealth  and  fame  awaited  me.  I  have  been  cheered  on  other 
occasions  by  manifestations  of  popular  approbation  and  sympathy ;  and 
where  there  was  no  such  encouragement,  I  had  at  least  the  gratitude  of 
him  whose  cause  I  defended.  But  I  speak  now  in  the  hearing  of  a  Peo- 
ple who  have  prejudged  the  prisoner,  and  condemned  me  for  pleading  in 
his  behalf.  He  is  a  convict,  a  pauper,  a  negro,  without  intellect,  sense, 
or  emotion.  My  child,  with  an  affectionate  smile,  disarms  my  care-worn 
face  of  its  frown  whenever  I  cross  my  threshold.  The  beggar  in  the 
street  obliges  me  to  give,  because  he  says  "  God  bless  you,"  as  I  pass. 
My  dog  caresses  me  with  fondness  if  I  will  but  smile  on  him.  My  horse 
recognizes  me  when  I  fill  his  manger.  But  what  reward,  what  gratitude, 
what  sympathy  and  affection  can  I  expect  here  ?  There  the  prisoner  sits. 
Look  at  him.     Look  at  the  assemblage  around  you.     Listen  to  their  ill- 


0  DEFENCE    OF 

suppressed  censures  and  their  excited  fears,  and  tell  me  where  among 
my  neighbors  or  my  fellow  men,  where  even  in  his  heart,  I  can  expect  to 
find  the  sentiment,  the  thought,  not  to  say  of  reward  or  of  acknowledg- 
ment, but  even  of  recognition.  I  sat  here  two  weeks  during  the  prelimi- 
nary trial.  I  stood  here  between  the  prisoner  and  the  Jury  nine  hours, 
and  pleaded  for  the  wretch  that  he  was  insane  and  did  not  even  know  he 
was  on  trial :  and  when  all  was  done,  the  Jury  thought,  at  least  eleven 
of  them  thought,  that  I  had  been  deceiving  them,  or  was  self -deceived, 
jlliey  read  signs  of  intelligence  in  his  idiotic  smile,  and  of  cunning  and 
;;malice  in  his  stolid  insensibility.  They  rendered  a  verdict  that  he  was 
ssane  enough  to  be  tried,  a  contemptible  compromise  verdict  in  a  capital 
case  ;  and  then  they  looked  on,  with  what  emotions  God  and  they  only 
know,  upon  his  arraignment.  The  District  Attorney,  speaking  in  his 
adder  ear,  bade  him  rise,  and  reading  to  him  one  indictment,  asked  him 
whether  he  wanted  a  trial,  and  the  poor  fool  answered.  No.  Have  you 
Counsel  ?  No.  And  they  went  through  the  same  mockery,  the  prisoner 
I  giving  the  same  answers,  until  a  third  indictment  was  thundered  in  his 
ears,  and  he  stood  before  the  Court,  silent,  motionless,  and  bewildered. 
Gentlemen,  you  may  think  of  this  evidence  what  you  please,  bring  in 
what  verdict  you  can,  but  I  asseverate  before  Heaven  and  you,  that,  to 
the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief,  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  does  not  at 
this  moment  know  why  it  is  that  my  shadow  falls  on  you  instead  of  his 
own. 

I  speak  with  all  sincerity  and  earnestness ;  not  because  I  expect  my 
opinion  to  have  Aveight,  but  I  would  disarm  the  injurious  impression  that 

1  am  speaking,  merely  as  a  lawyer  speaks  for  his  client.  I  am  not  the 
prisoner's  lawyer,  I  am  indeed  a  volunteer  in  his  behalf ;  but  Society 
and  Mankind  have  the  deepest  interests  at  stake.  I  am  the  lawyer  for 
Society,  for  Mankind,  shocked  beyond  the  power  of  expression,  at  the 
scene  I  have  witnessed  here  of  trying  a  Maniac  as  a  Malefactor.  In  this, 
almost  the  first  of  such  causes  I  have  ever  seen,  the  last  I  hope  that  I 
shall  ever  see,  I  wish  that  I  could  perform  my  duty  with  more  effect.  If 
I  suffered  myself  to  look  at  the  volumes  of  testimony  through  which  I 
have  to  pass,  to  remember  my  entire  want  of  preparation,  the  pressure  of 
time,  and  my  wasted  strength  and  energies,  I  should  despair  of  acquitting 
myself  as  you  and  all  good  men  will  hereafter  desire  that  I  should  have 
performed  so  sacred  a  duty.  But  in  the  cause  of  humanity  we  are  en- 
couraged to  hope  for  Divine  assistance  where  human  powers  are  weak. 
As  you  all  know,  I  provided  for  my  way  through  these  trials,  neither 
gold  nor  silver  in  my  purse,  nor  scrip  ;  and  when  I  could  not  think  be- 
forehand what  I  should  say,  I  remembered  that  it  was  said  to  those  who 
had  a  beneficent  commission,  that  they  should  take  no  thought  what  they 
should  say  when  brought  before  the  magistrate,  for  in  that  same  hour  it 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  7 

should  be  given  them  what  they  should  say,  and  it  should  not  be  they 
who  should  speak,  but  the  spirit  of  their  Father  speaking  in  them. 

You  have  promised.  Gentlemen,  to  be  impartial.  You  will  find  it  more 
difficult  than  you  have  supposed.  Our  minds  are  liable  to  be  swayed  by 
temporary  influences,  and  above  all,  by  the  influences  of  masses  around  us. 
At  every  stage  of  this  trial,  your  attention  has  been  diverted,  as  it  will  be 
hereafter,  from  the  only  question  which  it  involves,  by  the  eloquence  of 
the  Counsel  for  the  People  reminding  you  of  the  slaughter  of  that  help- 
less and  innocent  family,  and  of  the  danger  to  which  society  is  exposed 
by  relaxing  the  rigor  of  the  laws.  Indignation  against  crime,  and  appre- 
hensions of  its  recurrence,  are  elements  on  which  public  justice  relies 
for  the  execution  of  the  law.  You  must  indulge  that  indignation.  You 
cannot  dismiss  such  apprehensions.  You  will  in  common  with  your  fel- 
low citizens  deplore  the  destruction  of  so  many  precious  lives,  and  sym- 
pathize with  mourning  relations  and  friends.  Such  sentiments  cannot  be 
censured  when  operating  upon  the  community  at  large,  but  they  are 
deeply  to  be  deplored  whey  they  are  manifested  in  the  Jury  Box. 

Then  again  a  portion  of  this  issue  has  been  tried,  imperfectly  tried,  un- 
justly tried,  already.  A  jury  of  twelve  men,  you  are  told,  have  already 
rendered  their  verdict  that  the  prisoner  is  now  sane.  The  deference 
which  right-minded  men  yield  to  the  opinions  of  others,  the  timidity 
which  weak  men  feel  in  dissenting  from  others,  may  tempt  you  to  sur- 
render your  own  independence.  I  warn  you  that  that  verdict  is  a  reed 
which  will  pierce  you  through  and  through.  That  Jury  was  selected 
without  peremptory  challenge.  Many  of  the  Jurors  entered  the  panel 
with  settled  opinions  that  the  prisoner  was  not  only  guilty  of  the  homi- 
cide, but  sane,  and  all  might  have  entertained  such  opinions  for  all  that 
the  prisoner  could  do.  It  was  a  verdict  founded  on  such  evidence  as 
could  be  hastily  collected  in  a  community  where  it  required  moral  cour- 
age to  testify  for  the  accused.  Testimony  was  excluded  upon  frivolous 
and  unjust  pretences.  The  cause  was  submitted  to  the  Jury  on  the 
Fourth  6f  July,  and  under  circumstances  calculated  to  convey  a  mulicious 
and  unjust  spirit  into  the  Jury  Box.  It  was  a  strange  celebration.  The 
dawn  of  the  Day  of  Independence  was  not  greeted  with  cannon  or  bells. 
No  lengthened  procession  was  seen  in  our  streets,  nor  were  the  voices  of 
orators  heard  in  our  public  halls.  An  intense  excitement  brought  a  vast 
multitude  here,  complaining  of  the  delay  and  the  expense  of  what  was 
deemed  an  unnecessary  trial,  and  demanding  the  sacrifice  of  a  victim, 
who  had  been  spared  too  long  already.  For  hours  that  assemblage  was 
roused  and  excited  by  denunciations  of  the  prisoner,  and  ridicule  of  his 
deafness,  his  ignorance,  and  his  imbecility.  .  Before  the  Jury  retired,  the 
Court  was  informed  that  they  were  ready  toj:ender  the  verdict  required. 
One  Juror,  however,  hesitated.     The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath.     The 


8 


DEFENCE    OF 


Jury  were  called  and  the  Court  remonstrated,with  the  dissentient,  and 
pressed  the  necessity  of  a  verdict.  That  Juror  gave  way  at  last,  and  the 
bell  which  summoned  our  citizens  to  Church  for  the  evening  service,  was 
the  signal  for  the  discharge  of  the  Jury,  because  they  had  agreed.  Even 
thus  a  legal  verdict  could  not  be  extorted.  The  eleven  Jurors,  doubtless 
under  an  intimation  from  the  Court,  compromised  with  the  twelfth,  and  q, 
verdict  was  rendered,  not  in  the  language  of  the  law,  that  the  prisoner 
was  **  not  insane,"  but  that  he  was  "  suiSciently  sane,  in  mind  and 
memory,  to  distinguish  between  right  and  wrong  "  ;  a  verdict  which  im- 
plied that  the  prisoner  was  at  least  partially  insane,  was  diseased  in  other 
faculties  beside  the  memory,  and  partially  diseased  in  that,  and  that,  al- 
though he  had  mind  and  memory  to  distinguish  between  right  and  wrong 
in  the  abstract,  he  had  not  reason  and  understanding  and  will  to  regulate 
his  conduct  according  to  that  distinction  ;  in  short,  a  verdict  by  which 
the  Jury  unworthily  evaded  the  question  submitted  to  them,  and  cast 
upon  the  Court  a  responsibility  which  it  had  no  right  to  assume,  but 
which  it  did  nevertheless  assume,  in  violation  of  the  law.  That  twelfth 
Juror  was  afterwards  drawn  as  a  Juror  in  this  cause,  and  was  challenged 
by  the  Counsel  for  the  People  for  partiality  to  the  prisoner,  and  the  chal- 
lenge was  sustained  by  the  Court,  because,  although  he  had,  as  the  Court 
Bay,  pronounced  by  his  verdict  that  the  prisoner  was  sane,  he  then  de- 
clared that  he  believed  the  prisoner  insane,  aud  would  die  in  the  Jury 
Box  before  he  would  render  a  verdict  that  he  was  sane.  Last  and  chief 
of  all  objections  to  that  verdict  now,  it  has  been  neither  pleaded  nor 
proved  here,  and  therefore  is  not  in  evidence  before  you.  I  trust  then 
that  you  will  dismiss  to  the  contempt  of  mankind  that  Jury  and  their  ver- 
dict, thus  equivocating  upon  Law  and  Science,  Health  and  Disease,  Crime 
and  Innocence. 

Again.  An  inferior  standard  of  intelligence  has  been  set  up  here  as 
the  standard  of  the  Negro  race,  and  a  false  one  as  the  standard  of  the 
Asiatic  race.  This  Prisoner  traces  a  divided  lineage.  On  the  paternal 
eide  his  ancestry  is  lost  among  the  tiger  hunters  on  the  Gold  Coast  of 
Africa,  while  his  mother  constitutes  a  portion  of  the  small  remnant  of 
the  Narragansett  tribe.  Hence  it  is  held  that  the  prisoner's  intellect  is  to 
be  compared  with  the  depreciating  standard  of  the  African,  and  his  pas- 
sions with  the  violent  and  ferocious  character  erroneously  imputed  to  the 
Aborigines.  Indications  of  manifest  derangement,  or  at  least  of  imbe- 
cility, approaching  to  Idiocy,  are  therefore  set  aside,  on  the  ground  that 
they  harmonize  with  the  legitimate  but  degraded  characteristics  of  the 
races  from  which  he  is  descended.  You,  gentlemen,  have,  or  ought  to 
have,  lifted  up  your  souls  above  the  bondage  of  prejudices  so  narrow 
and  so  mean  as  these.  The  color  of  the  prisoner's  skin,  and  the  form  of 
his  features,  are  not  impressed  upon  the  spiritual,  immortal  mind  which 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN. 


9 


works  beneath.  In  spite  of  human  pride,  he  is  still  your  brother,  and 
mine,  in  form  and  color  accepted  and  approved  by  his  Father,  and  yours, 
and  mine,  and  bears  equally  with  us  the  proudest  inheritance  of  our  race 
— the  image  of  our  Maker.  Hold  him  then  to  be  a  Man.  Exact  of 
him  all  the  responsibilities  which  should  be  exacted  under  like  circum- 
stances if  he  belonged  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  and  make  for  him  all 
the  allowances,  and  deal  with  him  with  all  the  tenderness  which,  under 
like  circumstances,  you  would  expect  for  yourselves. 

The  Prisoner  was  obliged — no,  his  Counsel  were  obliged,  by  law,  to 
accept  the  plea  of  Not  Guilty,  which  the  Court  directed  to  be  entered 
in  his  behalf.  That  plea  denies  the  homicide.  If  the  law  had  al- 
lowed it,  we  would  gladly  have  admitted  all  the  murders  of  which  the 
prisoner  was  accused,  and  have  admitted  them  to  be  as  unprovoked  as  they 
were  cruel,  and  have  gone  directly  before  you  on  the  only  defence  upon 
which  we  have  insisted,  or  shall  insist,  or  could  insist — that  he  is  irre- 
sponsible, because  he  was  and  is  insane. 

We  labor,  not  only  under  these  difficulties,  biU  under  the  further  em- 
barrassment that  the  plea  of  Insanity  is  universally  suspected.  It  is  the 
last  subterfuge  of  the  guilty,  and  so  is  too  often  abused.  But  however 
obnoxious  to  suspicion  this  defence  is,  there  have  been  cases  where  it 
was  true  ;  and  when  true,  it  is  of  all  pleas  the  most  perfect  and  complete 
defence  that  can  be  offered  in  any  human  tribunal.  Our  Savior  forgave 
his  Judges  because  "they  knew  not  what  they  did."  The  insane  man  who 
has  committed  a  crime,  knew  not  what  he  did.  If  this  being,  dyed  with 
human  blood,  be  insane,  you  and  I,  and  even  the  children  of  our  affec- 
tions, are  not  more  guiltless  than  he. 

.  Is  there  reason  to  indulge  a  suspicion  of  fraud  here  ?  Look  at  this 
stupid,  senseless  fool,  almost  as  inanimate  as  the  clay  moulded  in  the 
brick-yard,  and  say,  if  you  dare,  that  you  are  afraid  of  being  deceived 
by  him.  Look  at  me.  You  all  know  me  Am  I  a  man  to  engage  in  a 
conspiracy  to  deceive  you,  and  defraud  justice  ?  Look  on  us  all,  for  al- 
though I  began  the  defence  of  this  cause  alone,  thanks  to  the  generosity, 
to  the  magnanimity  of  an  enlightened  profession,  I  come  out  strong  in 
the  assistance  of  Counsel  never  before  attached  to  me  in  any  relation, 
but  strongly  grappled  to  me  now,  by  these  new  and  endearing  ties.  Is 
any  one  of  us  a  man  to  be  suspected  ?  The  testimony  is  closed.  Look 
through  it  all.  Can  suspicion  or  malice  find  in  it  any  ground  to  accuse 
us  of  a  plot  to  set  up  a  false  and  fabricated  defence  ?  1  will  give  you. 
Gentlemen,  a  key  to  every  case  where  Insanity  has  been  wrongfully,, 
and  yet  successfully  maintained.  Gold,  influence,  popular  favor,  popular 
sympathy,  raise  that  defence,  and  make  it  impregnable.  But  you  have 
never  seen  a  poor,  worthless,  spiritless,  degraded  negro  like  this,  acquit- 
ted wrongfully.     I  wish   this  trial  may  prove  that  such  an  one  can 


10  DEFENCE    OF 

be  acquitted  rightfully.  The  danger  lies  here.  There  is  not  a  white 
man  or  white  woman  who  would  not  have  been  dismiss^ed  long  since 
from  the  perils  of  such  a  prosecution,  if  it  had  only  been  proved  that  the 
offender  was  so  ignorant  and  so  brutalized  as  not  to  understand  that  the 
defence  of  insanity  had  been  interposed. 

If  he  feign,  who  has  trained  the  idiot  to  perform  this  highest  and  most 
difficult  of  all  intellectual  achievements  ?  Is  it  I  ?  Shakspeare  and  Cer- 
vantes only,  of  all  mankind,  have  conceived  and  perfected  a  counterfeit 
of  insanity.  Is  it  I  ?  Why  is  not  the  imposition  exposed,  to  my  dis- 
comfiture and  the  prisoner's  ruin  ?  Where  was  it  done  ?  Was  it  in 
public,  here  ?  Was  it  in  secret,  in  the  jail  ?  His  deafened  ears  could 
not  hear  me  there  unless  I  were  also  overheard  by  other  prisoners,  by  jail- 
ers, constables,  the  Sheriff,  and  a  cloud  of  witnesses.  Who  has  the 
keys  of  the  jail  ?  Have  I  ?  You  have  had  Sheriif,  Jailer,  and  the  whole 
Police  upon  the  stand.  Could  none  of  these  witnesses  reveal  our  plot  ? 
Were  there  none  to  watch  and  report  the  abuse  ?  When  they  tell  you, 
or  insinuate.  Gentlemen,  that  this  man  has  been  taught  to  feign  i.isanity, 
they  discredit  themselves,  as  did  the  Roman  sentinels,  who,  appointed  to 
guard  the  sepulchre  of  our  Savior,  said,  in  excuse  of  the  broken  seal, 
that  while  they  slept,  men  came  and  rolled  away  the  stone. 

I  advance  towards  the  merits  of  the  cause.  The  law  which  it  involves 
will  be  found  in  the  case  of  Kleim,  tried  for  murder  in  1844,  before  Judge 
Edmonds,  of  the  first  circuit,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  reported  in  the 
Journal  of  Insanity  for  January,  1846,  at  page  261.  I  read  from  the  re- 
port of  the  Judge's  charge. 

"  He  told  the  Jury  that  there  was  no  doubt  that  Kleim  had  been  guilty 
of  the  killing  imputed  to  him,  and  that  under  circumstances  of  atrocity 
and  deliberation  which  were  calculated  to  excite  in  their  minds  strong 
feelings  of  indignation  against  him.  But  they  must  beware  how  they 
permitted  such  feelings  to  influence  their  judgment.  They  must  bear  in 
mind  that  the  object  of  punishment  was  not  vengeance,  but  reformation ; 
not  to  extort  from  a  man  an  atonement  for  the  life  which  he  cannot  give, 
but  by  the  terror  of  the  example,  to  deter  others  from  the  like  offences, 
and  that  nothing  was  so  likely  to  destroy  the  public  confidence  in  the 
administration  of  criminal  justice,  as  the  infliction  of  its  pains  upon  one 
whom  Heaven  has  already  afflicted  with  the  awful  malady  of  Insanity." 

These  words  deserve  to  be  written  in  letters  of  gold  upon  tablets  of 
marble.  Their  reason  and  philosophy  are  apparent.  If  you  send  the 
lunatic  to  the  gallows,  society  will  be  shocked  by  your  inhumanity,  and 
the  advocates  for  the  abolition  of  capital  punishment  will  find  their  most 
effective  argument  in  the  fact  that  a  Jury  of  the  country,  through  igno- 
rance or  passion,  or  prejudice,  have  mistaken  a  madman  for  a  criminal. 

The  report  of  Judge  Edmonds'  charge  proceeds  :  "  It  was  true  that  the 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  H 

plea  of  insanity  was  sometimes  adopted  as  a  cloak  for  crime,  yet  it  was 
unfortunately  equally  true,  that  many  more  persons  were  unjustly  con- 
victed, to  whom  their  unquestioned  insanity  ought  to  have  been  an  un- 
failing protection." 

This  judicial  answer  to  the  argument  that  jurors  are  too  likely  to  be 
swayed  by  the  plea  of  insanity,  is  perfect  and  complete. 

Judge  Edmonds  further  charged  the  Jury,  "  that  it  was  by  no  means 
an  easy  matter  to  discover  or  define  the  line  of  demarkation  where  sanity 
ended  and  insanity  began,"  and  that  it  was  often  "  difficult  for  those 
most  expert  in  the  disease  to  detect  or  explain  its  beginning,  extent,  or 
duration,"  "  that  the  classifications  of  the  disease  were  in  a  great  measure" 
arbitrary,  and  the  jury  were  not  obliged  to  bring  the  case  of  the  prisoner 
within  any  one  of  the  classes,  because  the  symptoms  of  the  different 
kinds  were  continually  mingling  with  each  other." 

The  application  of  this  rule  will  render  the  present  case  perfectly  clear, 
because  it  appears  from  the  evidence  that  the  prisoner  is  laboring  under 
a  combination  of  mania  or  excited  madness,  with  dementia  or  decay  of 
the  mind. 

Judge  Edmonds  furnishes  you  with  a  balance  to  weigh  the  testimony 
iu  the  case,  in  these  words  : 

•'  It  was  important  that  the  jury  should  understand  how  much  weight 
was  to  be  given  to  the  opinions  of  medical  witnesses.  The  opinions  of 
men  who  had  devoted  themselves  to  the  study  of  insanity  as  a  distinct 
department  of  medical  science,  and  studied  recent  improvements  and  dis- 
coveries, especially  when  to  that  knowledge  they  added  the  experience 
of  personal  care  of  the  insane,  could  never  be  safely  disregarded  by 
Courts  and  Juries ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  the  opinions  of  physicians 
Viiio  had  not  devoted  their  particular  attention  to  the  disease,  were  not  of 
any  more  value  than  the  opinions  of  common  persons." 

This  charge  of  Judge  Edmonds  furnishes  a  lamp  to  guide  your  feet, 
and  throws  a  blazing  light  on  your  path.  He  acknowledges,  in  the  first 
place,  with  distinguished  independence  for  a  Judge  and  a  Lawyer,  that 
•'  the  law,  in  its  slow  and  cautious  progress,  still  lags  far  behind  the  ad- 
vance of  true  knowledge."  "  An  insane  person  is  one  who,  at  the  time 
of  committing  the  act,  labored  under  such  a  defect  of  reason  as  not  to 
know  the  nature  and  quality  of  the  act  he  was  doing,  or  if  he  did  know 
it,  did  not  know  he  was  doing  what  was  wrong  ;  and  the  question  is  not 
whether  the  accused  knew  the  difference  between  right  and  wrong  gene- 
rally, but  whether  he  knew  the  difference  between  right  and  wrong  in  re- 
gard to  the  very  act  with  which  he  is  charged  J'  "  If  some  controlling  dis- 
ease was  in  truth,  the  acting  power  within  him,  which  he  could  not  resist, 
or  if  he  had  not  a  sufficient  use  of  his  reason  to  control  the  passions 
which  prompted  him,  he  is  not  responsible.     But  it  must  be  an  absolute 


12  DEFENCE    OP 

dispossession  of  the  free  and  natural  agency  of  the  hufnan  mind.  In  the 
glowing  but  just  language  of  Erskine,  it  is  not  necessary  that  Reason 
should  "be  hurled  from  her  seat,  it  is  enough  that  Distraction  sits  down 
beside  her,  holds  her  trembling  in  her  place,  and  frightens  her  from  her 
propriety." 

Judge  Edmonds  proceeded  :  **  And  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the 
moral  as  well  as  the  intellectual  faculties  may  be  so  disordered  by  the 
disease  as  to  deprive  the  mind  of  its  controling  and  directing  pow'er. 

*'  In  order  then  to  establish  a  crime,  a  man  must  have  memory  and 
intelligence  to  know  that  the  act  he  is  about  to  commit  is  wrong ;  to 
remember  and  understand,  that  if  he  commit  the  act,  he  will  be  subject 
to  punishment ;  and  reason  and  will  to  enable  him  to  compare  and  choose 
between  the  supposed  advantage  or  gratification  to  be  obtained  by  the 
criminal  act,  and  the  immunity  from  punishment  whicn  he  will  secure 
by  abstaining  from  it. 

"  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  have  not  intelligence  enough  to  have  a 
criminal  intent  and  purpose ;  and  if  his  moral  or  intellectual  powers  are 
either  so  deficient  that  he  has  not  sufficient  will,  conscience,  or  control- 
ling mental  power  ;  or  if  through  the  overwhelming  violence  of  mental 
disease  his  intellectual  power  is  for  the  time  obliterated,  he  is  not  a  re- 
sponsible moral  agent." 

The  learned  Judge  recommended  to  the  Jury,  "  as  aids  to  a  just  con- 
clusion, to  consider  the  extraordinary  and  unaccountable  alteration  in 
the  prisoner's  whole  mode  of  life  ;  the  inadequacy  between  the  slight- 
ness  of  the  cause  and  the  magnitude  of  the  offence  ;  the  recluse  and  as- 
cetic life  which  he  had  led ;  his  invincible  repugnance  to  all  intercourse 
with  his  fellow  creatures  ;  his  behavior  and  conduct  at  the  time  the  act 
was  done,  and  subsequently  during  his  confinem'^nt ;  and  the  stolid  iji- 
difference  which  he  alone  had  manifiested  during  the  whole  progress  of 
a  trial  upon  which  his  life  or  death  depended." 

Kleim  was  acquitted  and  sent,  according  to  law,  to  the  State  Lunatic 
Asylum  at  Utica.  The  Superintendent  of  the  Asylum,  in  a  note  to  this 
report,  states  that  Kleim  is  uniformly  mild  and  pleasant ;  has  not  asked 
a  question,  or  spoken  or  learned  the  name  of  any  one  ;  seems  very  im- 
perfectly to  recollect  the  murder  or  the  trial ;  says  he  was  put  in  Prison  ; 
does  not  know  what  for;  and  was  taken  to  the  court,  but  had  no  trial ; 
that  his  bodily  health  is  good,  but  that  his  mind  is  nearly  gone — quite 
demented. 

You  cannot  fail,  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury,  to  remark  the  extraordinary 
similarity  between  the  case  of  Kleim,  as  indicated  in  the  charge  of  Judge 
Eflmonds,  and  that  of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar.  If  I  were  sure  you  would 
receive  such  a  charge,  and  be  guided  by  it,  I  might  rest  here,  and  defy 
the  eloquence  of  the  Attorney  General.     The  proof  of  insanity  in  this 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  13 

case  is  of  the  same  nature,  and  the  disease  in  the  same  form  as  in  the 
case  of  Kleim.  The  only  difference  is,  that  the  evidence  here  is  a  thou- 
sand times  more  conclusive.  But  Judge  Edmonds  does  not  preside  here. 
Kleim  was  a  white  man,  Freeman  is  a  negro:  Kleim  set  fire  to  a  house, 
to  burn  only  a  poor,  obscure  woman  and  her  child.  Here  the  madman  de- 
stroyed a  whole  family,  rich,  powerful,  honored,  respected  and  beloved. 
Kleim  was  tried  in  the  city  of  New  York;  and  the  community  engaged 
in  their  multiplied  avocations,  and  heedless  of  a  crime  not  infrequent 
there,  and  occurring  in  humble  life,  did  not  overawe  and  intimidate  the 
Court,  the  Jury,  or  the  witnesses.  Here  a  panic  has  paralyzed  human- 
ity. No  man  or  woman  feels  safe  until  the  maniac  shall  be  extirpated 
from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Kleim  had  the  sympathies  of  men  and  wo- 
men, willing  witnesses,  advocates  sustained  and  encouraged  by  popular. 
favor  and  an  impartial  Jury.  Freeman  is  already  condemned  by  the  tri- 
bunal of  public  opinion,  and  has  reluctant  and  timorous  witnesses,  Coun- 
sel laboring  under  embarrassments  plainly  to  be  seen,  and  a  Jury  whose 
impartiality  is  yet  to  be  proved. 

The  might  that  slumbered  in  this  maniac's  arm  was  exhausted  in  the 
paroxysm  which  impelled  him  to  his  dreadful  deeds.  Yet  an  excited 
community,  whose  terror  has  not  yet  culminated,  declare,  that  whether 
sane  or  insane,  he  must  be  executed,  to  give  safety  to  your  dwellings 
and  theirs.  I  must  needs  then  tell  you  the  law,  which  will  disarm  such 
cowardly  fear.  If  you  acquit  the  prisoner,  he  cannot  go  at  large,  but 
must  be  committed  to  jail,  to  be  tried  by  another  Jury,  for  a  second  mur- 
der. Your  dwellings  therefore  will  be  safe.  If  such  a  Jury  find  him 
sane,  he  will  then  be  sent  to  his  fearful  account,  and  your  dwellings 
will  be  safe.  If  acquitted,  he  will  be  remanded  to  jail,  to  await  a  third 
trial,  and  your  dwellings  will  be  safe.  If  that  Jury  convict,  he  will  then 
be  executed,  and  your  dwellings  will  be  safe.  If  they  acquit  he  will  still 
be  detained,  to  answer  for  a  fourth  murder,  and  youi  dwellings  will  be  safe. 
Whether  the  fourth  Jury  acquit  or  convict,  your  dwellings  will  still  be 
safe;  for  if  they  convict,  he  will  then  be  cut  oiT,  and  if  they  acquit,  he 
must,  according  to  the  law  of  the  land,  be  sent  to  the  Lunatic  Asylum, 
there  to  be  confined  for  life.  You  may  not  slay  him  then,  for  the  pub- 
lic security,  because  the  public  security  does  not  demand  the  sacri- 
fice. No  security  for  home  or  hearth  can  be  obtained  by  judicial  mur- 
der. God  will  abandon  him,  who,  through  cowardly  fear,  becomes  such 
a  murderer.  I  also  stand  for  the  security  of  the  homes  and  hearths  of 
my  fellow  citizens,  and  have  as  deep  an  interest,  and  as  deep  a  slake  as 
any  one  of  them.  There  are  my  home  and  hearth,  exposed  to  every 
danger  that  can  threaten  theirs  ;  but  I  know  that  security  cannot  exist  for 
any,  if  feeble  man  undertakes  to  correct  the  decrees  of  Providence. 

The  Counsel  for  the  People  admit  in  the  ab.stract  that  insanity  excuses 


DEFENCE    OF 

crime,  but  they  insist  on  rules  for  the  regulation  of  insanity,  to  which 
that  disease  can  never  conform  itself.  Dr.  Fosgate  testified  that  the 
prisoner  was  insane.  He  was  asked  by  the  Attorney  General,  "  What 
if  the  law,  nevertheless,  hold  to  be  criminal  that  same  state  of  mind 
which  you  pronounce  insanity  ?"  He  answered  with  high  intelligence 
and  great  moral  firmness,  "  The  law  cannot  alter  the  constitution  of  man, 
as  it  was  given  him  by  his  Maker." 

Insanity  such  as  the  Counsel  for  the  People  would  tolerate,  never  did 
and  never  will  exist.  They  bring  its  definition  from  Coke,  Blackstone 
and  Hale,  and  it  requires  that  by  reason  either  of  natural  infirmity  or  of 
disease,  the  wretched  subject  shall  be  unable  to  count  twenty,  shall  not 
know  his  father  or  mother,  and  shall  have  no  more  reason  or  thought 
than  a  brute  beast. 

According  to  the  testimony  of  Dr.  Spencer,  and  the  claim  of  the  At- 
torney General,  an  individual  is  not  insane  if  you  find  any  traces  or 
glimmerings  of  the  several  faculties  of  the  human  mind,  or  of  the  more 
important  ones.  Dr.  Spencer  has  found  in  the  prisoner,  memory  of 
his  wrongs  and  sufferings,  choice  between  bread  and  animal  food,  hunger 
to  be  appeased,  thirst  to  be  quenched,  love  of  combat,  imperfect  know- 
ledge of  money,  anger  and  malice.  All  of  Dr.  Spencer's  questions  to 
the  accused  show,  that  in  looking  for  insanity,  he  demands  an  entire  ob- 
literation of- all  conception,  attention,  imagination,  association,  memory, 
understanding  and  reason,  and  every  thing  else.  There  never  was  an 
idiot  so  low,  never  a  diseased  man  so  demented. 

You  might  as  well  expect  to  find  a  man  born  without  eyes,  ears,-  nose, 
mouth,  hands  and  feet,  or  deprived  of  them  all  by  disease,  and  yet  sur- 
viving, as  to  find  such  an  idiot,  or  such  a  lunatic,  as  the  Counsel  for 
the  People  would  hold  irresponsible.  The  reason  is,  that  the  human 
mind  is  not  capable,  while  life  remains,  of  such  complete  obliteration. 
What  is  the  human  mind  ?  It  is  immaterial,  spiritual,  immortal ;  an  em- 
anation of  the  Divine  Intelligence,  and  if  the  frame  in  which  it  dwells 
had  preserved  its  just  and  natural  proportions,  and  perfect  adaptation, 
it  would  bea  pure  and  heavenly  existence.  But  that  frame  is  marred  and 
disordered  in  its  best  estate.  The  spirit  has  communication  wit  h  the  world 
without,  and  acquires  imperfect  knowledge  only  through  the  half-opened 
gates  of  the  senses.  If,  from  original  defects ,  or  from  accidental  causes,  the 
structure  be  such  as  to  cramp  or  restrain  the  mind,  it  becomes  or  appears 
to  be  weak,  diseased,  vicious  and  wicked.  I  know  one  who  was  born 
without  sight,  without  hearing,  and  without  speech,  retaining  the  faculties 
of  feeling  and  smell.  That  child  was,  and  would  have  continued  to  be 
an  idiot,  incapable  of  receiving  or  communicating  thoughts,  feelings,  or 
affections  ;  but  tenderness  unexampled,  and  skill  and  assiduity  unparal- 
leled, have  opened  avenues  to  the  benighted  mind  of  Laura  Bridgman, 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  15 

and  developed  it  into  a  perfect  and  complete  human  spirit,  conscious- 
ly allied  to  all  its  kindred,  and  aspiring  to  Heaven.  Such  is  the  mind 
of  every  idiot,  and  of  every  lunatic,  if  you  can  only  open  the  gates,  and 
restore  the  avenues  of  the  senses  ;  and  such  is  the  human  soul  when  de- 
ranged and  disordered  by  disease,  imprisoned,  confounded,  benighted. 
That  disease  is  insanity. 

Doth  not  the  idiot  eat }  Doth  not  the  idiot  drink  ?  Doth  not  the  idiot 
know  his  father  and  his  mother  ?  He  does  all  this  because  he  is  a  man. 
Doth  he  not  smile  and  weep  ?  and  think  you  he  smiles  and  weeps  for 
nothing  ?  He  smiles  and  weeps  because  he  is  moved  by  human  joys 
and  sorrows,  and  exercises  his  reason,  however  imperfectly.  Hath  not 
the  idiot  anger,  rage,  revenge  .'  Take  from  him  his  food,  and  he  will 
stamp  his  feet  and  throw  his  chains  in  your  face.  Think  you  he  doth 
this  for  nothing  ?  He  does  it  all  because  he  is  a  man,  and  because,  how- 
ever imperfectly,  he  exercises  his  reason.  The  lunatic  does  all  this,  and, 
if  not  quite  demented,  all  things  else  that  man,  in  the  highest  pride  of 
intellect,  does  or  can  do.  He  only  does  them  in  a  different  way.  You 
may  pass  laws  for  his  government.  Will  he  conform  ?  Can  he  conform  ? 
What  cares  he  for  your  laws  .'  He  will  not  even  plead ;  he  cannot  plead 
his  disease  in  excuse.  You  must  interpose  the  plea  for  him,  and  if  you  al- 
low it,  he,  when  redeemed  from  his  mental  bondage,  will  plead  for  you, 
when  he  returns  to  your  Judge  and  his.  If  you  deny  his  plea,  he  goes  all 
the  sooner,  freed  from  imperfection,  and  with  energies  restored,  into  the 
presence  of  that  Judge.  You  must  meet  him  there,  and  then,  no  longer 
bewildered,  stricken  and  dumb,  he  will  have  become  as  perfect,  clear 
and  bright,  as  those  who  reviled  him  in  his  degradation,  and  triumphed 
in  his  ruin. 

And  now  what  is  insanity  ?  Many  learned  men  have  defined  it  for 
us,  but  I  prefer  to  convey  my  idea  of  it  in  the  simplest  manner.  Insan- 
ity is  a  disease  of  the  body,  and  I  doubt  not  of  the  brain.  The  world  is 
astonished  to  find  it  so.  They  thought  for  almost  six  thousand  years, 
that  it  was  an  affection  of  the  mind  only.  Is  it  strange  that  the  discovery 
should  have  been  made  so  late  ?  You  know  that  it  is  easier  to  move  a 
burthen  upon  two  smooth  rails  on  a  level  surface,  than  over  the  rugged 
ground.  It  has  taken  almost  six  thousand  years  to  learn  that.  But  mor- 
alists argue  that  insanity  shall  not  be  admitted  as  a  physical  disease,  be- 
cause it  would  tend  to  exempt  the  sufferer  from  responsibility,  and  be- 
cause it  would  expose  society  to  danger.  But  who  shall  know,  better 
than  the  Almighty,  the  ways  of  human  safety,  and  the  bonds  of  human 
responsibility  ? 

And  is  it  strange  that  the  brain  should  be  diseased.^  What  organ, 
member,  bone,  muscle,  sinew,  vessel  or  nerve  is  not  subject  to  disease  ? 
What  is  physical  man,  but  a  frail,  perishing  body,  that  begins  to  decay 


16  DEFENCE    OP 

as  soon  as  it  begins  to  exist  ?  What  is  there  of  aniihal  existence  here 
on  earth,  exempt  from  disease,  and  decay  ?  Nothing.  The  world  is  full 
of  disease,  and  that  is  the  great  agent  of  change,  renovation  and  health. 

And  what  wrong  or  error  can  there  be  in  supposing  that  the  mind 
may  be  so  affected  by  disease  of  the  body  as  to  relieve  man  from  respon- 
sibility .'  You  will  answer,  it  would  not  be  safe.  But  who  has  assured 
you  of  safety  ?  Is  not  the  way  of  life  through  dangers  lurking  on  every 
side,  and  though  you  escape  ten  thousand  perils,  must  you  not  fall  at  last  ? 
Human  life  is  not  safe,  or  intended  to  be  safe,  against  the  elements. 
Neither  is  it  safe,  or  intended  to  be  safe,  against  the  moral  elements  of 
man's  nature.  It  is  not  safe  against  pestilence,  or  against  war,  against 
the  thunderbolt  of  Heaven,  or  against  the  blow  of  the  maniac.  But  com- 
parative safety  can  be  secured,  if  you  will  be  wise.  You  can  guard 
against  war,  if  you  will  cultivate  peace.  You  can  guard  against  the  light- 
-  ning  if  you  will  learn  the  laws  of  electricity,  and  raise  the  protecting 
rod.  You  will  be  safe  against  the  maniac,  if  you  will  watch  the  causes 
of  madness,  and  remove  them.  Yet  after  all  there  will  be  danger  enough 
from  all  these  causes  to  remind  you  that  on  earth  you  are  not  immortal. 

Although  my  definition  would  not  perhaps  be  strictly  accurate,  I  should 
pronounce  Insanity  to  be  a  derangement  of  the  mind,  character  and  con- 
duct, resulting  from  bodily  disease.  I  take  this  word  derangement,  because 
it  is  one  in  common  every  day  use.  We  all  understand  what  is  meant 
when  it  is  said  that  any  thing  is  ranged  or  arranged.  The  houses  on  a 
street  are  ranged,  if  built  upon  a  straight  line.  The  fences  on  your  farms 
are  ranged.  A  single  object  too  may  be  ranged.  A  tower  if  justly  built, 
is  ranged  ;  that  is,  it  is  ranged  by  the  plummet.  It  rises  in  a  perpendic- 
ular range  from  the  earth.  A  file  of  men  marching  in  a  straight  line  are 
in  range.  "  Range  yourselves,  men,"  though  not  exactly  artistical,  is  not 
an  uncommon  word  of  command.  Now  what  do  we  mean  when  we  use 
the  word  "deranged  "  ?  Manifestly  that  a  thing  is  not  irnged,  is  not  ar- 
ranged, is  out  of  range.  If  the  houses  on  the  street  be  built  irregularly, 
they  are  deranged.  If  the  fences  be  inclined  to  the  right  or  left,  they 
arc  deranged.  If  there  be  an  unequal  pressure  on  cither  side,  the  tow- 
er will  lean,  that  is,  it  will  be  deranged.  If  the  file  of  men  btcome  ir- 
regular, the  line  is  deranged.  So  if  a  man  be  insane.  There  was  a  regu- 
lar line  which  he  was  pursuing ;  not  the  same  line,  which  you  or  I  fol- 
low, for  all  men  pursue  different  lines,  and  every  sane  man  has  his 
own  peculiar  path.  All  these  paths  arc  straight,  and  all  are  ranged, 
though  all  divergent.  It  is  easy  enough  to  discover  when  the  street,  the 
fence,  the  tower,  or  the  martial  procession  is  deranged.  But  it  is  quite 
another  thing  to  determine  when  the  course  of  an  individual  life  has  be- 
come deranged.  We  deal  not  then  with  geometrical  or  material  lines, 
but  with  an  imaginary  line.     We  have  no  phj  sical  objects  for  land  marks. 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN. 


17 


We  trace  the  line  backward  by  the  light  of  imperfect  and  unsatisfactory- 
evidence,  which  leaves  it  a  matter  almost  of  speculation  whether  there 
has  been  a  departure  or  not.  In  some  cases,  indeed,  the  task  is  easy. 
If  the  fond  mother  becomes  the  murderer  of  her  offspring,  it  is  easy  to 
see  that  she  is  deranged.  If  the  pious  man,  whose  steps  were  firm  and 
whose  pathway  led  straight  to  Heaven,  sinks  without  temptation  into 
criminal  debasement,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  he  is  deranged.  But  in  cases 
where  no  natural  instinct  or  elevated  principle  throws  its  light  upon  our 
research,  it  is  often  the  most  difficult  and  delicate  of  all  human  investi- 
gations to  determine  when  a  person  is  deranged. 

We  have  two  tests.  First,  to  compare  the  individual  after  the  sup- 
posed derangement  with  himself  as  he  was  before.  Second,  to  compare 
his  course  with  those  ordinary  lines  of  human  life  which  we  expect  sane 
persons,  of  equal  intelligence,  and  similarly  situated,  to  pursue. 

If  derangement,  which  is  insanity,  mean  only  what  we  have  assumed, 
how  absurd  is  it  to  be  looking  to  detect  whether  memory,  hope,  joy, 
fear,  hunger,  thirst,  reason,  understanding,  wit,  and  other  faculties  re- 
main !  So  long  as  life  lasts  they  never  cease  to  abide  with  man,  whether 
he  pursue  his  straight  and  natural  way,  or  the  crooked  and  unnatural 
course  of  the  lunatic.  If  he  be  diseased,  his  faculties  will  not  cease  to  "7 
act.  They  will  only  act  differently.  It  is  contended  here  that  the  pri- 
soner is  not  deranged  because  he  performed  his  daily  task  in  the  State 
Prison,  and  his  occasional  labor  afterwards  ;  because  he  grinds  his  knives, 
fits  his  weapons,  and  handles  the  file,  the  axe,  and  the  saw,  as  he  was 
instructed,  and  as  he  was  wont  to  do.  Now  the  Lunatic  Asylum  at  Uti- 
ca  has  not  an  idle  person  in  it,  except  the  victims  of  absolute  and  incu- 
rable dementia,  the  last  and  worst  stage  of  all  insanity.  Lunatics  are 
almost  the  busiest  people  in  the  world.  They  have  their  prototypes  only 
in  children.  One  lunatic  will  make  a  garden,  another  drive  the  plough, 
another  gather  flower*.  One  writes  poetry,  another  essays,  another  ora- 
tions. In  short,  lunatics  eat,  drink,  sleep,  work,  fear,  love,  hate,  laugh, 
weep,  mourn,  die.  They  do  all  things  that  sane  men  do,  but  do  them  in 
some  peculiar  way.  It  is  said,  however,  that  this  prisoner  has  hatred 
and  anger,  that  he  has  remembered  his  wrongs,  and  nursed  and  cherished 
revenge  ;  wherefore,  he  cannot  be  insane.  Cowper,  a  moralist  who  had 
tasted  the  bitter  cup  of  Insanity,  reasoned  otherwise : 

"  But  violence  can  never  longer  sleep 
Than  Humaa  Passions  please.     In  cv'ry  heart 
Are  sown  lh«  sparks  thai  kindle  fi'ry  war ; 
Occasion  needs  but  fan  them  and  they  blaxe, 
The  saeds  of  murder  in  the  breast  of  man." 

Melancholy  springs  oflenest  from  recalling  and  brooding  over  wrong 
and   suffering.     Melancholy   is   the  first  stage  of   madness,  and    it  is 
only  recently  that  the  less  accurate  name  of  monomania  has  been  substi- 
2 


18  DEFENCE    OF 

tuted  in  the  place  of  melancholy.  Melancholy  is  the  foster-mother 
of  anger  and  revenge.  Until  1830  our  statutory  definition  of  lunatics 
was  in  the  terms  "  disorderly  persons,  who,  if  left  at  large,  might  endan- 
ger the  lives  of  others/'  Our  law?  now  regard  them  as  merely  disorder- 
ly and  dangerous,  and  society  acquiesces,  unless  madness  rise  so  high 
that  the  madman  slay  his  imaginary  enemy,  and  then  he  is  pronounced 
Bane. 

The  prisoner  lived  with  Nathaniel  Lynch,  at  the  age  of  eight  or  nine, 
and  labored  occasionally  for  him  during  the  last  winter.  Lynch  visited 
him  in  the  jail,  and  asked  him  if  he  remembered  him,  and  remembered 
living  with  him.  The  prisoner  answered,  yes.  Lynch  asked  the  pri- 
soner whether  he  was  whipped  while  there,  and  by  whom,  and  why. 
From  his  answers  it  appeared  that  he  had  been  whipped  by  his  mistress 
for  playing  truant,  and  that  he  climbed  a  rough  board  fence  in  his  night- 
clothes  and  fled  to  his  mother.  Upon  this  evidence,  the  learned  profes- 
sor from  Geneva  College,  Dr.  Spencer,  builds  an  argument  that  the  pri- 
soner has  conception,  sensation,  memory,  imagination,  and  association, 
and  is  most  competent  for  the  scaffold.  Now  here  are  some  verses  to 
which  I  would  invite  the  Doctor's  attention  : 

"  Shut  up  ill  dreary  gloom,  like  convicts  are, 

In  companJ*of  murderers  !    Oh,  wretched  fate  ! 

If  pity  e'er  extended  through  the  frame, 

Or  sympathy's  sweet  cordial  touched  the  heart, 

Pity  the  wretched  maniac  who  knows  no  blame, 

Abicrbed  in  sorrow,  where  darkness,  poverty,  and  every  curse  impart." 

Here  is  evidence  not  merely  of  memory  and  other  faculties,  but  of 
what  we  call  genius.  Yet  these  verses  are  a  sad  effusion  of  Thomas 
Lloyd,  a  man-slaying  maniac  in  Bedlam. 

The  first  question  of  fact  here.  Gentlemen,  as  in  every  case  where  in- 
sanity is  gravely  insisted  upon,  is  this : 

Is  THE  Prisoner  feigning  or  counterfeiting  Insanity  ? 

What  kind  of  man  is  he  ?  A  youth  of  twenty-three,  without  learning, 
education,  or  experience.  Dr.  Spencer  raises  him  just  above  the  brute; 
Dr.  Bigelow  exalts  him  no  higher ;  and  Dr.  Dimon  thinks  that  he  has 
intellectual  capacity  not  exceeding  that  of  a  child  of  ten  years,  with  the 
knowledge  of  one  of  two  or  three.  These  are  the  people's  witnesses. 
All  the  witnesses  concur  in  these  estimates  of  his  mind. 

Can  you  conceive  of  such  a  creature  comprehending  such  a  plot,  and 
standing  up  in  his  cell  in  the  jail,  hour  after  hour,  day  after  day,  week 
after  week,  and  month  after  month,  carrying  on  such  a  fraud  ;  and  all 
the  while  pouring  freely  into  the  ears  of  inquisitors  curious,  inquisitors 
friendly,  and  inquisitors  hostile,  without  discrimination  or  alarm,  or  ap- 
parent hesitation  or  suspicion,  with  "  child-like  simplicity, "  as  our  wit- 
nesses describe  it,  and  with  "  entire  docility,"  as  it  is  described  by  the 
witnesses  for  the  People,  confessions  of  crime,  which,  if  they  fail  to  be 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  V9 

received  as  evidences  of  insanity,  must  constitute  an  insurmountable 
barrier  to  his  acquittal  ? 

I  am  ashamed  for  men  who,  without  evidence  of  the  prisoner's  dissimu- 
lation, and  in  opposition  to  the  unanimous  testimony  of  all  the  witnesses, 
that  he  is  sincere,  still  think  that  this  poor  fool  may  deceive  them.  If 
he  could  feign,  and  were  feigning,  would  he  not  want  some  counsel,  some 
friend,  if  not  to  advise  and  assist,  at  least  to  inform  him  of  the  probable 
success  of  the  fraud?  And  yet  no  one  of  his  counsel  or  witnesses  has 
ever  conversed  with  him,  but  in  a  crowd  of  adverse  witnesses  ;  and  for 
myself,  I  have  not  spoken  with  him  in  almost  two  months,  and  during 
the  same  period  have  never  looked  upon  him  elsewhere  than  here,  in  the 
presence  of  the  Court  and  of  the  multitude. 

Would  a  sane  man  hold  nothing  back  ?  admit  every  tiling  ?  to  every 
body  ?  affect  no  ignorance  ?  no  forgetfulness  ?  no  bewilderment  ^  no  con- 
fusion ?  no  excitement  ?  no  delirium  ? 

Dr.  Ray,  in  his  Treatise  on  the  Medical  Jurisprudence  of  Insanity  (p. 
333)  gives  us  very  different  ideas  from  all  this,  of  those  who  can  feign, 
and  of  the  manner  of  counterfeiting : 

*'  A  person  who  has  not  made  the  insane  a  subject  of  study,  cannot 
simulate  madness,  so  as  to  deceive  a  physician  well  acquainted  with  the 
disease.  Mr.  Haslam  declares,  that  '  to  sustain  the  character  of  a  pa- 
roxysm of  active  insanity,  would  require  a  continuity  of  exertion  beyond 
the  power  of  a  sane  person.'  Dr.  Conolly  affirms  that  he  can  hardly 
imagine  a  case  which  would  be  pioof  against  an  efficient  system  of  ob- 
servation. 

"  The  grand  fault  committed  by  impostors  is,  that  they  overdo  the 
character  they  assume. 

**  The  really  mad,  except  in  the  acute  stage  of  the  disease,  are,  gene- 
rally speaking,  not  readily  recognized  as  such  by  a  stranger,  and  they 
retain  so  much  of  the  rational  as  to  require  an  effort  to  detect  the  impair- 
ment of  their  faculties. 

"  Generally  speaking,  after  the  acute  stage  has  passed  off,  a  maniac 
has  no  difficulty  in  remembering  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  the  places 
he  has  been  accustomed  to  frequent,  names,  dates,  and  events,  and  the 
occurrences  of  his  life.  The  ordinary  relations  of  things  are,  with  some 
exceptions,  as  easily  and  clearly  perceived  as  ever,  and  his  discrimina- 
tion of  character  seems  to  be  marked  by  his  usual  shrewdness.         * 

*         *         *       A  person  simulating  mania  will  frequently  deny  all 
knowledge  of  men  and  things  with  whom  he  has  always  been  familiar." 

And  now,  Gentlemen,  I  will  give  you  a  proof  of  the  difference  between 
this  real  science  and  the  empiricism  upon  which  the  Counsel  for  the  Peo- 
ple rely,  in  this  cause.  Jean  Pierre  was  brought  before  the  Court  of 
Assizes  in  Paris,  in  1824,  accused  of  forgery,  swindling,  and  incendia- 


20  DEFENCE    OP 

rism.  He  feigned  insanity.  A  commission  of  eminent  physicians  ex- 
amined him,  and  detected  his  imposture  by  his  pretended  forgetfulness, 
and  confusion  in  answermg  interrogatories  concerning  his  life  and  his- 
tory. The  most  prominent  of  these  questions  are  set  down  in  the  books. 
{Ray,  p.  338.)  I  submitted  these  questions  and  answers,  with  a  state- 
ment of  Jean  Pierre's  case,  to  Dr.  Spencer,  and  he,  governed  by  the 
rules  which  have  controled  him  in  the  present  cause,  pronounced  the 
impostor's  answers  to  be  evidence  of  insanity,  because  they  showed  a 
decay  of  memory. 

Again,  Gentlemen,  look  at  the  various  catechisms  in  which  this  pri- 
soner has  been  exercised  for  two  months,  as  a  test  of  his  sanity.  Would 
any  sane  man  have  propounded  a  solitary  one  of  all  those  questions  to 
any  person  whom  he  believed  to  be  of  sound  mind  ?  Take  an  instance. 
On  one  occasion,  Dr.  Willard,  a  witness  for  the  People,  having  ex- 
hausted the  idiot's  store  of  knowledge  and  emotion,  expressed  a  wish  to 
discover  whether  the  passion  of  fear  had  burned  out,  and  employing  Mr. 
Morgan's  voice,  addressed  the  prisoner  thus :  "  Bill,  they're  going  to  take 
you  out  to  kill  you.  They're  going  to  lake  you  out  to  kill  you.  Bill." 
The  poor  creature  answerd  nothing.  "What  do  you  think  of  it,  Bill  ?" 
Answer ;  *'  I  don't  think  about  it — I  don't  believe  it."  "  Bill,"  continues 
the  inquisitor,  with  louder  and  more  terrific  vociferation,  "  they're  going 
to  kill  you,  and  the  doctors  want  your  bones ;  what  do  you  think  of  it. 
Bill  ?"  The  prisoner  answers ;  "  I  don't  think  about  it — I  don't  believe 
it."  The  Doctor's  case  was  almost  complete,  but  he  thought  that  per- 
haps the  prisoner's  stupidity  might  arise  from  inability  to  understand  the 
question.  Therefore,  lifting  his  voice  still  higher,  he  continues :  "  Did 
you  ever  see  the  Doctors  have  any  bones  ?  Did  you  ever  see  the  Doctors 
have  any  bones.  Bill  ?"  The  fool  answers  ;  •'  I  have."  "  Then  where 
did  you  see  them.  Bill  ?"  "  In  Dr.  Pitney's  office."  And  thus,  by  this 
dialogue,  the  sanity  of  the  accused  is,  in  the  judgment  of  Dr.  Willard, 
completely  established.  It  is  no  matter  that  if  the  prisoner  had  believed 
the  threat,  his  belief  would  have  proved  him  sane  ;  if  he  had  been  terri- 
fied, his  fears  would  have  sent  him  to  the  gallows ;  if  he  had  forgotton 
the  fleshless  skeleton  he  had  seen,  he  would  have  been  convicted  of 
falsehood,  and  of  course  have  been  sane.  Of  such  staple  as  this  are  all 
the  questions  which  have  been  put  to  the  prisoner  by  all  the  witnesses. 
There  is  not  an  interrogatory  which  any  one  of  you  would  have  put  to 
a  child  twelve  years  old. 

Does  the  prisoner  feign  insanity  ?  One  hundred  and  eight  witnesses 
have  been  examined,  of  whom  seventy-two  appeared  on  behalf  of  the 
people.  No  one  of  them  has  expressed  a  belief  that  he  was  simulating. 
On  the  contrary,  every  witness  to  whom  the  inquiry  has  been  addressed, 
answers  that  the  sincerity  of  the  prisoner  is  beyond  question.   . 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  21 

Mr.  John  R.  Hopkins  says :  "  I  watched  him  sharply  to  discover  any 
simulation,  but  I  couldn't.  There  was  no  deception.  If  there  had  been 
I  should  have  detected  it." 

Ethan  A.  Warden,  President  of  the  village  of  Auburn,  with  whom 
the  prisoner  had  the  most  extended  conversation,  says :  *'  I  suppose  he 
thought  he  spoke  the  truth." 

Ira  Curtis,  Esq.,  testifies  :  "  It  did  occur  to  me  whether  the  prisoner, 
with  his  appearance  of  sincerity,  was  attempting  to  play  off  a  game  of 
imposture.  The  thought  vanished  in  a  moment.  There  was  too  much 
before  me.  I  have  no  doubt  of  his  sincerity.  I  don't  believe  it  is  in  the 
power  of  all  in  this  room  to  teach  him  to  carry  on  a  piece  of  deception 
for  fifteen  minutes,  because  he  would  forget  what  he  set  about." 

Dr.  Hkrmance  says  :  "  He  spoke  with  so  much  sincerity." 

The  Rev.  John  M.  Austin  says  :  "  He  did  not  dissemble.  I  should 
suppose  him  the  shrewdest  man  in  the  world  if  he  did  dissemble.  I  have 
not  the  slightest  doubt  that  there  was  no  attempt  to  dissemble." 

The  tenor  of  the  testimony  of  all  the  witnesses  for  the  prisoner,  leaxned 
and  unlearned,  is  the  same. 

The  witnesses  for  the  people,  learned  and  unlearned,  concur. 

Dr.  BiGELOW  says :  "  He  has  betrayed  no  suspicion  of  me.  He  has 
manifested  entire  docility  to  me." 

Dr.  Spen<;er  describes  the  manner  of  the  witness  ift  giving  all  his  an- 
swers, as  •*  entirely  frank." 

Dr.  Clary  concludes  the  question  of  sincerity  against  all  doubt.  He 
says :  "  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  either  thought  he  was  reading  or  that 
he  meant  to  deceive,  and  I  don't  think  the  latter,  for  he  always  seemed 
to  be  very  frank." 

It  being  thus  absolutely  settled.  Gentlemen,  that  the  prisoner  does  not 
simulate  insanity,  I  pass  to  the  seco«d  proposition  in  this  defence,  which 
is,  that    - 

It  is  proved  that  the  prisoner  is  changed. 

I  shall  first  ask  you  to  compare  him  now  with  himself  in  the  earlier 
and  happier  period  of  his  life. 

Nathaniel  Hersey,  a  witness  for  the  people,  a  colored  man,  knew 
the  prisoner  seven  years  ago,  and  says :  "  He  was  a  lively,  smart  boy, 
laughed,  played,  and  was  good  natured  ;  understood  as  well  as  any 
body  ;  could  tell  a  story  right  off;  talked  like  other  folks." 

This  is  the  testimony  of  an  associate  of  the  prisoner  at  the  age  of 
sixteen. 

John  Depuy  is  a  brother-in-law  of  the  accused,  and  has  known  him 
more  than  twelve  years.  This  witness  says  ;  the  prisoner  "  was  an  ac- 
tive, smart  boy,  lively  as  any  other  you  could  find,  a  good  boy  to  work ; 
set  him  to  work  any  where,  and  he  would  do  it ;  sociable  and  understood 


22  DEFENCE    OP 

himself,  and  had  some  learning ;  could  read  in  the  spelling  book  pretty 
well;  could  read  oif  simple  reading  lessons  in  the  spelling  book,  smooth 
and  decent." 

David  Winner,  a  colored  man,  was  the  friend  and  companion  of  the 
parents  of  the  prisoner.  He  says :  When  this  boy  was  twelve  or  thir- 
teen years  old,  he  was  a  pretty  sprightly  lad,  sensible,  very  lively.  I  saw 
no  difference  between  him  and  any  other  boy  of  sense,  at  that  time." 

Nathaniel  Lynch,  a  witness  for  the  people,  in  whose  house  the  pri- 
soner was  an  inmate  at  the  age  of  eight  years,  says  :  "  He  was  a  lively, 
playful  boy,  almost  always  smiling  and  laughing,  and  appeared  to  be  a 
lively,  laughing,  playful  boy." 

Daniel  Andrus,  a  witness  for  the  people,  testifies  that  he  employed 
the  prisoner  eight  years  ago,  and  talked  with  him  then  as  he  would  with 
any  other  laboring  man. 

Mary  Ann  Newark  has  known  the  prisoner  from  childhood,  and 
says  :  '♦  He  was  a  lively,  smart  boy." 

Honest  Adam  Gray  was  a  friend  of  the  prisoner's  parents,  and  says  : 
*'  He  waf  a  smart  boy,  was  very  active  ;  always  thought  him  a  pretty 
cunning  kind  of  a  boy." 

Dr.  Briggs  knew  him  twelve  years  ago,  as  "  a  lad  of  ordinary  intelli- 
gence for  boys  of  his  condition." 

Robert  Freeman  was  a  fellow  servant  with  the  prisoner,  at  the  Amer- 
ican Hotel,  eight  years  ago,  and  though  he  never  entered  into  any  argu- 
ment with  the  prisoner  to  find  out  his  mother-wit,  he  says:  '*He  was 
playful  betimes,  seemed  to  understand  every  thing,  and  very  active." 

Dr.  Van  Epps  knew  the  prisoner  in  his  early  infancy,  and  says:  "He 
then  appeared  as  bright  and  intelligent  as  children  generally  are  at  that 
age." 

Thomas  F.  Munroe,  a  witness  for  the  people,  certainly  not  partial  to 
the  prisoner,  says:  "  In  his  youth  he  was  quick  and  active,  and  not  much 
different  from  other  black  boys." 

A.  A.  Vanderheyden,  a  witness  for  the  people,  represents  the  pri- 
soner as  "  active  and  intelligent"  in  his  youth. 

Aretas  a.  Sabin,  a  witness  for  the  people,  knew  the  prisoner  fifteen 
or  sixteen  years  ago,  and  says  that  he  was  no  more  or  less  playful  than 
other  boys,  and  that  he  wept  on  entering  the  State  Prison,  at  the  age  of 
sixteen. 

Jefferson  Wellington,  a  hostile  witness,  testifies  that  the  prisoner 
was  sociable  and  talked  freely  upon  general  subjects  at  the  age  of  six- 
teen. 

Lewis  Markham  has  known  the  prisoner  from  childhood,  and  declares 
that  "  he  was  a  smart  boy,  pretty  active,  quick,  sprightly,  shrewd,  at- 
tentive and  faithful,  without  any  lack  of  conversational  powers." 


WILLIAM    FEEEMAN.  23 

Ethan  A.  Warden  received  the  prisoner  into  his  family  fifteen  or 
sixteen  years  ago,  "  as  a  bright  boy,  and  took  him  for  the  reason  that  he 
was  so,"  and  now  declares  that  "  he  was  then  a  lad  of  good  understand- 
ing, and  of  kind  and  gentle  disposition." 

Sally  Freeman,  the  prisoner's  mother,  gives  this  simple  account  of 
him  :  *'  When  he  was  young,  he  was  a  very  smart  child,  before  he  went 
to  the  State  Prison,  He  was  always  very  playful  and  good  natured. 
About  understanding  things  he  was  the  same  as  other  children." 

Finally.  Deborah  Depuy,  vfho  is  of  the  same  age  with  the  prisoner, 
of  the  same  caste,  amd  moves  in  the  same  humble  sphere,  testifies  that 
she  "  knew  him  before  he  went  to  the  State  Prison,  in  childhood  and 
youth;"  that  "  his  manners,  action,  and-mind,  were  very  good — as  good 
as  other  boys;"  that  she  "  associated  with  him ;  he  was  as  bright  as  any 
body  else  ;  he  was  very  cheerful ;"  she  had  "  been  with  him  to  balls 
and  rides  :  he  acted  very  smart  on  such  occasions  ;"  she  had  talked  with 
him  often,  and  never  discovered  any  lack  of  intelligence." 

Such,  Gentlemen,  is  a  complete  picture  of  the  childhood  and  youth  of 
the  prisoner  at  the  bar.  Its  truthfulness  and  fidelity  are  unquestioned, 
for  all  the  witnesses  on  both  sides  have  drawn  it  for  you. 

Look  on  that  picture  and  then  on  the  one  I  shall  now  present,  and, 
fiince  I  must  speak  of  a  class  Jowly  and  despised, 

"Let  not  Ambition  mock  their  useful  toil, 
Their  humble  joys  and  clestmy  obscure: 
Nor  Grandeur  hear  with  a  disdainful  anile 
The  short  and  simple  aanals  of  the  poor." 

You  have  seen  that  the  prisoner  wept,  as  well  he  might,  when  he  en- 
tered the  State  Prison  at  the  age  of  sixteen.  It  was  the  last  manifesta- 
tion he  has  ever  given  of  a  rational  mind. 

Eehan  A.  Warden  says:  **  I  saw  the  prisoner  in  the  Slate  Prison. 
He  appeared  stupid  and  different  from  what  he  used  to  be,  and  from  what 
I  expected  he  would  be.  I  cannot  describe  the  difference  ;  it  was  so 
peculiar.  I  said  to  him,  "  Bill,  are  you  here  .'  and  repeated  the  question 
two  or  three  times;  at  first  he  did  not  understand,  but  at  last  said,  '  Yes.' 
He  appeared  changed." 

.  John  Depuy  saw  the  prisoner  in  the  State  Prison  at  five  different  times, 
but  was  not  allowed  to  speak  with  him.  Depuy  says  the  prisoner  "  was 
carrying  something  on  his  back  like  a  knapsack,  and  walking  back  and 
forth  in  the  yard.  He  did  not  appear  as  he  did  before  he  went  to  Pri- 
son. He  appeared  stupid,  took  no  notice  of  anything.  '  He  did  not  know 
me,  and  took  no  notice  of  me.  I  saw  him  at  other  times  when  at  work 
and  when  idle,  and  then  thought  there  was  something  the  matter  with 
him.     I  thought  he  was  not  in  his  right  mind." 

WiLLFAM  P.  Smith  was  a  foreman  of  one  of  the  shops  in  the  Stale 


34  DEFENCE    OF 

Prison  during  the  third  year  of  the  prisoner's  confinement  there,  and  had 
charge  of  him.  He  describes  him  as  *•  passionate,  sullen-,  and  stupid." 
This  witness  relates  that  the  prisoner  had  oiled  his  shoes  neatly  and  set 
them  upon  a  wood  pile,  that  a  convict  accidentally  disturbed  the  shoes, 
and  that  the  prsioner  struck  the  convict  with  a  billet  of  wood  -with  great 
violence,  for  which  offence  he  was  punished  ;  that  at  another  time,  with 
as  little  provocation,  he  attacked  another  convict  with  great  fury,  for 
displacing  some  yarn  on  a  reel.  The  witness  says  :  '*  When  I  sent  him 
on  an  errand,  he  required  repeated  and  very  particular  instructions.  I 
considered  his  intellect  at  the  time  very  low  indeed.  He  knew  very  lit- 
tle, not  much  more  than  a  brute  or  beast." 

Theron  R.  Green,  who  was  a  keeper  in  the  prison  and  had  charge 
of  the  prisoner,  declares  that  he  "had  very  little  mind,  was  a  half -day 
man,  was  slow,  awkward,  dull,  downcast,  and  would  have  frequent 
freaks  of  laughing,  without  any  observable  cause  of  laughter'"  The 
witness  tried  to  instruct  him  in  his  cell  on  Sundays,  but  he  could  learn 
nothing."  Mr.  Green  says :  "  He  was  irritable,  malicious,  and  of  bad 
temper ;  often  violated  rules,  for  which  I  did  not  punish  him,  because  I 
thought  him  irresponsible.  I  think  that  he  had  as  much  capacity  as  a 
brute  beast.  I  dont  know  as  he  had  more.  If  more,  there  was  none  to 
spare.  I  remarked  when  he  left  the  shop,  that  he  ought  not  to  go  at 
large." 

HoRACc  HoTCHKiss  was  a  teacher  in  the  Sunday  School,  at  the  State 
Prison,  and  says  that  the  prisoner  "  was  dismissed  from  the  School  be- 
cause he  could  not  be  taught  to  read." 

Such  is  the  imperfect  history  of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  while  he  was 
shut  up  from  the  observation  of  men,  and  deprived  by  the  discipline  of 
the  State  Prison  of  the  use  of  speech  and  of  the  privilege  of  complaint. 

He  was  discharged  from  prison  on  the  twentieth  of  last  September. 

Alonzo  Wood,  the  new  Chaplain  of  the  State  Prison,  visited  him  in 
his  cell  there  twice  during  the  last  month  of  his  confinement,  and  asked 
him  questions,  which  the  prisoner  noticed  only  by  inclining  his  head. 
The  Chaplain  expressed  a  hope  to  him  on  the  day  of  his  discharge 
that  he  might  be  able  to  keep  out  of  prison  thereafter,  and  inquired 
whether  he  wanted  a  Bible.  "  I  understood  him  to  say,"  says  the  wit- 
ness, that  it  would  be  of  no  use — that  he  conldn't  read.  At  the  Clerk's 
office  he  received  the  usual  gratuity  of  two  dollars,  for  which  he  was 
required  to  sign  a  voucher.  He  answered,  '  I  have  been  in  Prison 
five  years  unjustly,  and  ain't  going  to  settle  so.' "  The  officers,  including 
the  Reverend  Chaplain,  laughed  heaitily  at  what  they  thought  gross  ig- 
norance. 

The  prisoner's  faithful  brother-in-law,  John  Deput,  was  waiting  in 
the  hall  to  conduct  him  homeward.     His  narrative  is  simple  and  affect- 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  25 

mg.  *'  I  sat  down,"  says  Deput,  "  on  the  long  chair  in  the  hall.  He 
came  out  and  passed  me  as  if  he  didn't  know  me.  I  went  up  and 
touched  him,  and  asked  him  if  he  knew  me,  and  he  kind  o'  laughed. 
We  came  along  to  Applcgate's,  where  I  stopped  to  assist  to  raise  a  new 
building.  He  sat  down  on  a  pile  of  boards.  He  sat  there  and  acted 
very  stupid  and  dull  and  said  nothing.  They  asked  me  what  damned 
fool  I  had  with  me  sitting  there  ? 

"  He  didn't  know  the  value  of  his  money.  He  had  received  four  half 
dollars,  and  thought  they  were  quarters.  We  went  to  the  hatter's  for  a 
cap — found  one  worth  half  a  dollar ;  he  threw  down  two  halves.  I 
handed  one  back  to  him  and  told  him  to  come  out.  After  he  came 
out,  he  insisted  that  he  had  paid  only  half  enough  for  the  cap,  and  that 
they  would  make  a  fuss  about  it."  All  the  leisure  hours  of  that  day  and 
the  next  were  spent  by  the  prisoner,  according  to  Depuy's  account,  in 
giving  relations  of  the  injustice  and  cruelty  he  had  suffered  in  the  Prison. 
He  was  very  deaf,  and  assigned  as  the  cause  of  it,  that  Tyler,  one  of  the 
keepers  in  the  Prison,  had  struck  him  across  the  ears  with  a  board,  and 
had  knocked  his  hearing  off  so  he  couldn't  hear,  and  his  hearing  had 
never  come  back.  "  I  asked  him,"  says  the  witness,  "  if  they  had  done 
anything  for  his  deafness.  He  said,  '  Yes,  they  put  salt  in  my  ear,  Mit 
it  didn't  do  any  good,  for  my  hearing  was  gone  and  all  knocked  off' " 

Again.  The  prisoner  told  Depuy  that  while  eating,  he  had  broken 
his  dinner  knife  in  the  Prison,  and  the  keepers  had  threatened  to  put  him 
back  five  years  for  that ;  and  says  Depuy,  *'  he  asked  me  if  they  could 
do  it."  He  complained  to  Depuy,  as  we  shall  have  occasion  to  see  here- 
after, that  he  had  been  wrongfully  imprisoned,  and  wanted  to  find  the 
people  who  had  done  him  such  injustice,  for  the  purpose  of  getting  pay 
from  them. 

Such  was  the  change  which  had  come  over  the  prisoner.  The  bright, 
lively,  social,  active  youth  of  sixteen,  had  become  a  drivelling,  simple 
fool. 

The  prisoner  remained  with  Depuy  some  two  or  three  months.  He 
asked  for  Esquires,  to  get  warrants  for  the  people  who  put  him  in  the 
State  Prison ;  at  one  time  said  the  justices  refused  to  give  him  war- 
rants ;  at  another  time,  that  "  he  had  got  it  all  fixed,"  and  he  wanted 
Depuy  to  go  down  and  see  that  he  got  his  pay  right ;  at  another,  said 
that  "  he  couldn't  do  nothing  with  them — they  cheated  him  all  the  time, 
and  he  couldn't  live  so."  He  followed  Depuy  seven  miles,  to  Skaneate- 
les,  and  brought  him  back  to  Auburn,  to  help  the  prisoner  in  a  dispute 
with  Mr.  Conklin,  the  harness-maker,  about  sawing  some  wood,  for 
which  he  claimed  thirty-seven  and  a  half  cents,  and  Conklin  refused  to 
pay  him  more  than  twenty-five  cents.  Depuy,  dealing  with  the  prisoner 
as  Dr.  Brigham  would,  made  peace  by  paying  him  the  difference,  and 


26  DEFENCE    OP 

settled  in  the  same  way  a  difference  between  the  prisoner  and  Mr.  Mur- 
fey,  the  merchant. 

The  prisoner's  mind  was  very  unsteady  during  the  winter.  Dbput 
continues :  "  He  did  not  know  half  the  time  what  he  was  doing ;  he- 
would  go  up  the  street  and  then  turn  and  run  violently  in  th3  other  di- 
rection. He  never  commenced  any  conversation  with  any  body,  never 
asked  a  question ;  smiled  without  cause  ;  got  up  out  of  his  bed  at 
night  many  times,  some  times  two  or  three  times  in  the  same  night, 
and  on  such  cccasions  would  sing  irregularly,  dance  and  spar,  as  if  with 
a  combatant ;  saying  sometimes  :  '  By  God  !  I'll  see  you  out ;'  sometimes 
he  would  take  a  book  and  mumble  words  as  if  reading,  but  there  was 
no  sense  in  the  words.  When  asked  afterwards  what  he  got  up  nights 
for,  he  answered  that  he  didn't  know."  The  prisoner  never  talked  with 
any  body  after  coming  out  of  prison  unless  to  answer,  in  the  simplest 
way,  questions  put  to  him. 

Many  persons  remember  the  negro,  with  his  saw,  deaf,  sad  and  sullen, 
seeking  occupation  about  the  wood-yards,  during  the  half  year  of  his 
enlargement.  Few  stopped  to  converse  with  him,  but  the  reports  of  all 
confirm  what  has  been  testified  by  Depuy.  Those  who  knew"  the  pris- 
oner at  all,  were  chiefly  persons  of  his  own  caste. 

Mary  Ann  Newark  says  that  she  saw  him  after  he  came  out  of  Pris- 
on, and  he  resided  with  her  several  days  before  the  homicide.  He  did 
not  recognize  her  in  the  street.  *«  He  sat  still  and  silent  when  in  the 
house,  asked  no  questions,  and  answered  quick  and  short-like.  His 
manner  of  acting  was  queer-like,  he  never  mentioned  any  name  or  spoke 
of  any  body." 

Nathaniel  Hersey,  the  prisoner's  old  friend,  found  him  changed, 
had  to  speak  loud  to  him,  "  he  appeared  to  be  quite  stupid."  Hersey 
asked  him  what  ailed  him,  "  he  said  he  was  deaf,  that  they  rapped  him 
over  the  head  at  the  Prison." 

Robert  Freeman  discovered  that  he  appeared  downcast  when  he 
first  came  out  of  Prison.  He  spoke  to  the  prisoner,  who  took  no  notice. 
Robert  took  hold  of  his  hand  and  asked  him  how  he  did.  The  wit- 
ness says  "  he  appeared  more  dull  and  downcast,  and  I  could  not  tell 
what  the  matter  was ;  could  never  establish  any  communication  with 
him." 

Old  Adam  Gray,  who  knew  him  as  a  "  pretty  cunning  kind  of  a  boy," 
testifies:  "  I  think  there  is  a  change  in  him.  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  that 
he  knows  as  much  as  he  did  before  he  went  to  Prison.  He  doesn't  seem 
to  talk  as  much,  to  have  so  much  life,  nor  does  he  seem  so  sensible. 
Last  winter  he  boarded  with  me  two  months.  He  would  get  up  nights, 
take  his  saw  and  go  out  as  if  he  was  going  to  work,  and  come  back 
again  and  go  to  bed.     On  such  occasions  he  would   try  to  sing,  but  I 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  27 

couldn't  understand  what  he  said.     He  made  a  noise  appearing  as  if  he 
was  dancing." 

Some  three  weeks  before  the  homicide,  the  prisoner  was  boarding  at 
Laura  Willard's.  The  truthful  and  simple-minded  David  Winner,  seems 
to  have  been  led  by  Providence  to  visit  the  house  at  that  time.  He  says, 
*'  I  saw  him  first  at  his'  uncle  Luke  Freeman's.  He  then  appeared  to  be 
a  foolish  man.  I  asked  if  that  was  Sally's  son.  I  did  not  know  him. 
They  told  me  it  was.  I  said,  he  is  very  much  altered.  They  said,  he 
has  just  come  out  of  State  Prison.  He  had  altered  very  much  in  his 
looks  and  behavior.  He  was  sitting  down  in  a  chair  in  the  corner  sniv- 
elling, snickering  and  laughing,  and  having  a  kind  of  simple  look.  I 
spoke  to  him ;  he  didn't  speak  ;  I  saw  nothing  for  him  to  laugh  at.  I 
staid  three  days  and  three  nights  at  Laura  Willard's  and  slept  with  Wil- 
liam in  the  same  bed.  At  night  he  got  up  and  talked  to  himself ;  I 
couldn't  understand  what  he  said.  He  appeared  to  be  foolish.  I  gave 
him  a  dollar  to  go  down  to  Bartlett's  to  get  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  tea 
and  two  pounds  of  sugar,  and  to  the  market  and  get  a  beef  steak.  He 
went  to  market  and  got  it  all  in  beef  steak.  He  got  a  dollar's  worth  of 
beef  steak.  When  I  asked  what  that  was  for,  he  said  nothing,  but 
laughed  at  me.  He  got  up  nights  two  or  three  times,  and  I  felt  cold  and 
told  Laura  I  wouldn't  sleep  with  him  any  more,  and  I  went  and  slept  in 
the  other  room.  I  got  afraid  of  him,  and  I  wouldn't  sleep  with  him  any 
more.  He  sung  when  he  got  up  nights,  but  you  couldn't  understand 
what  he  sung.     There  was  no  meaning  in  what  he  sung." 

Deborah  Depuy  says,  "  After  he  came  out  of  Prison,  there  was  a 
change.  If  I  talked  to  him  very  loud  he  would  talk,  say  very  little  only 
to  answer  me.  He  didn't  act  cheerful,  but  very  stupid  ;  never  said  any 
thing  until  I  talked  to  him.  He  never  talked  to  me  as  he  did  before  he 
went  to  Prison.  He  had  a  strange  smile.  He  would  laugh  very  hearty 
without  any  thing  to  laugh  at.  He  would'nt  know  what  he  was  laugh- 
ing at.  He  would  knock  at  the  door,  and  I  would  let  him  in,  and  he 
would  sit  down  and  laugh.  I  would  ask  what  he  was  laughing  at ;  he 
said,  he  didn't  know.  When  I  asked  questions,  he  would  either  answer 
yes,  or  no,  or  don't  know  I  asked  him  how  his  hearing  was  hurt.  He 
said  they  struck  him  on  the  head  with  a  board  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
sound  went  down  his  throat.  I  have  asked  him  why  he  was  so  stupid. 
I  don't  think  he  is  in  his  right  mind  now,  nor  that  he  has  been  since  he 
came  out.  The  reason  is  that  he  never  used  to  act  so  silly,  and  sit  and 
laugh  so,  before  he  went  to  Prison." 

His  mother,  Sally  Freeman,  describes  the  change  which  had  come 
over  her  child,  in  language  simple  and  touching  :  "  I  never  knew  he  was 
foolish  or  dumpish  before  he  went  to  Prison.  After  he  came  out  of 
Prison,  he  didn't  act  like  the  same  child.     He  was  chansred  and  didn't 


28  DEFENCE    OP 

appear  to  know  anything.  As  to  being  lively  after  he  came  out,  I  didn't 
Bee  any  cheerfulness  about  him.  He  was  either  sitting  or  standing  when 
I  afterwards  saw  him,  and  when  I  asked  him  a  question  he  would  an- 
swer, but  that  is  all  he  would  say.  He  appeared  very  dull.  He  never 
asked  me  any  questions  after  he  came  out,  only  thje  first  time  he  saw  me 
he  asked  me  if  I  was  well.  From  that  time  to  this  he  has  never  asked 
me  a  question  at  all.  He  didn't  come  to  see  me  more  than  half  a  dozen 
times.  When  he  came,  perhaps  he  would  ask  me  how  I  did,  and  then 
sit  down  and  laugh.  What  he  laughed  at  was  more  than  I  could  tell. 
He  laughed  as  he  does  now.  There  was  no  reason  why  he  should  laugh. 
He  was  laughing  to  himself.  He  didn't  speak  of  any  thing  when  he 
laughed.  I  never  inquired  what  he  laughed  at.  I  didn't  think  he  was 
hardly  right,  and  he  was  so  deaf  I  didn't  want  to.  I  asked  him  how  he 
got  deaf,  and  he  told  me  his  ear  had  fell  down,  or  some  such  foolish  an- 
swer he  gave  me.  He  would  stay  an  hour  or  so.  He  generally  sat  still. 
I  went  to  see  him  in  the  jail  after  he  killed  the  Van  Nest  family,  on  the 
first  day  of  the  trial.  He  laughed  when  I  went  in,  and  said  he  was  well. 
I  talked  to  him.  I  asked  him  if  he  knew  what  he  had  been  doing.  He 
stood  and  laughed.  I  asked  him  how  he  came  there.  He  didn't  say 
much  of  anything,  but  stood  and  laughed.  When  I  went  away  he 
didn't  bid  me  good-bye  nor  ask  me  to  come  again.  I  have  never  been 
to  see  him  since,  and  have  never  received  any  message  from  him  of  any 
kind  since  he  has  been  in  jail.  I  don't  know  that  he  noticed  me  when  I 
was  on  examination  before.  I  don't  think  he  is  in  his  right  mind,  or 
that  he  has  been  since  he  came  out  of  Prison.  The  reason  is  that  he 
acts  very  foolish,  and  don't  seem  as  though  he  had  any  senses." 

You  will  remember  that  we  have  seen  the  prisoner  a  smart,  bright, 
lively,  cheerful,  and  playful  youth,  attending  Deborah  Depuy  at  balls, 
parties,  and  rides  ;  for  negroes  enjoy  such  festivities  as  much  and  even 
more  than  white  men.  Deborah  says  he  no  longer  attends.  But  from 
the  testimony  of  John  Depuy  we  find  him  at  a  dance  in  the  house  of 
Laura  Willard,  on  (he  night  before  the  slaughter  of  the  Van  Nest  family. 
The  scene  was  the  same  as  before.  There  was  music,  and  gallantry, 
and  revelry,  and  merriment,  and  laughing,  and  dancing.  But  while  all 
others  were  thus  occupied,  where  was  the  prisoner,  and  how  was  he  en- 
gaged .'  He  was  leaning  against  the  wall,  sullen,  gloomy,  silent,  morose  ; 
pressing  with  his  hand  the  knife  concealed  in  his  bosom,  and  waiting 
his  opportunity  to  strike  to  the  heart  his  brother-in-law  and  benefactor. 

This  is  the  change  which  had  come  over  the  prisoner  when  he  emerged 
from  the  State  Prison,  as  observed  by  the  few  of  his  kindred  and  caste, 
who  had  known  him  intimately  before.  How  many  white  men  who 
knew  him  in  his  better  days,  have  we  heard  confirm  this  testimony,  by 
saying  that  they  lost  sight  of  him  when  he  went  to  Prison ;  that  they 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  29 

met  him  in  the  street  afterwards,  downcast  and  sullen,  with  his  saw  in 
his  hand,  seeking;  casual  occupation  ;  that  they  spoke  to  him  but  he  did 
not  hear  or  did  not  answer,  and  they  passed  on  !  Only  two  or  three  such 
persons  stopped  to  enquire  concerning  his  misfortunes,  or  to  sympathise 
with  him. 

William  P.  Smith  says  :  "  The  first  time  I  saw  him  after  he  came 
out  of  Prison,  was  in  November.  I  asked  him  how  he  did.  He  made 
no  answer.  A  little  black  boy  with  him  told  me  he  was  deaf.  I  spoke 
to  him  to  try  and  induce  conversation,  and  finally  gave  it  up  ;  I  couldn't 
make  him  understand.  He  appeared  different  from  what  I  had  known 
him  before ;  appeared  dumpish  ;  didn't  say  much,  and  seemed  to  stand 
around.  I  met  him  once  or-  twice  in  the  street — merely  met  him — he 
noticed  nothing." 

Doctor  Hermance  did  not  know  him  before  he  went  to  prison.  His 
peculiarities  attracted  the  Doctor's  attention,  and  he  inquired  the  cause. 
The  prisoner  answered  that  he  had  been  five  years  in  the  State  Prison, 
and  he  wasn't  guilty,  and  they  wouldn't  pay  him  The  Doctor  says  : 
'*  I  discovered  that  he  was  very  deaf,  and  inquired  the  cause  of  his  deaf- 
ness. He  stated  that  his  ears  dropped.  I  thought  his  manners  very  sin- 
gular and  strange  ;  and  what  he  said  about  pay  very  singular  and  strange. 
He  spoke  in  a  very  gloomy,  despondent  state  of  mind.  There  appeared 
to  be  a  sincerity  in  his  manner.  The  lone  of  his  voice  was  a  dull  and 
monotonous  tone.     I  thought  at  the  time  that  he  w^as  deranged." 

To  complete  this  demonstration  of  the  change,  I  have  only  to  give  you 
the  character  of  the  negro  now,  as  he  is  described  by  several  of  the  wit- 
nesses, as  well  on  the  part  of  the  people  as  of  the  prisoner,  who  have 
seen  him  in  prison,  and  as  he  is  admitted  to  be. 

Warren  T.  Worden,  Esq.,  an  astute  and  experienced  member  of  the 
bar,  visited  him  in  his  cell  in  the  jail,  and  says  :  "  I  formed  an  opinion 
then,  that  he  knew  nothing,  and  I  expressed  it.  I  do  not  believe  him 
sane.  I  don't  believe  he  understands  what  is  going  on  around  him.  He 
would  laugh  upon  the  gallows  as  readily  and  as  freely  as  he  did  in  his 
cell.  He  would  probably  know  as  much  as  a  dumb  beast  who  was  ta- 
ken to  the  slaughter  house,  as  to  what  was  to  be  done  with  him.  If 
that  state  of  mind  and  knowledge  constitute  insanity,  then  he  is  insane." 

Doctor  FosGATE,  one  of  the  soundest  and  most  enlightened  men  in  our 
community,  who  was  his  physician  in  the  jail,  and  dressed  his  wounded 
hand,  describes  him  as  "  insensible  to  pain,  ignorant  of  his  condition, 
and  of  course  indifferent  to  his  fate  ;  grinning  constantly  idiotic  smiles, 
without  any  perceptible  cause,  and  rapidly  sinking  into  idiocy." 

Ira  Curtis,  who  knew  him  in  his  youth,  and  has  now  carefully  ex- 
amined him  in  the  jail,  says  :  *'  He  is  incapable  of  understanding ;  he  is 
part  fool,  bordering  on  idiocy;  crazy  and  an  idiot  both,  and  crazy  and 


30  DEFENCE    OF 

insane  both.  If  all  the  Doctors  in  the  world  should  say  he  was  not  a 
fool,  I  shouldn't  believe  them." 

Doctor  Briggs,  who,  it  will  be  recollected,  knew  him  at  the  age  of 
eight  or  nine,  examined  him  in  the  jail  and  says  :  "  my  opinion  is  and 
was,  that  he  has  less  mind  than  when  I  knew  him  before — that  his  mind 
has  become  impaired." 

William  P.  Smith,  who  knew  him  before  he  went  to  the  State  Prison 
and  while  there,  patiently  examined  him  in  the  jail,  and  says  :  "  There 
was  a  change,  a  sensible  change  in  the  man.  He  didn't  appear  to  know 
as  much,  to  have  as  many  ideas ^bout  him,  as  many  looks  of  intelligence. 
I  don't  know  as  I  could  describe  it  very  well.  There  was  a  slowness,  a 
dullness  ;  I  thought  what  little  intellect  he  had  seemed  to  sink  lower  down, 
from  some  cause  or  other.  His  physical  strength  and  vigor  were  good  in 
the  Prison.  He  appeared  active,  strong  and  energetic.  Now,  his  manner 
appears  more  dull,  stupid  and  inattentive." 

Dr.  Van  Epps  says  :  "  Now  he  apptars  to  have  the  intellect  of  a  child 
five  years  old."  " 

Ethan  A.  Warden,  the  prisoner's  earliest  and  fastest  friend,  says: 
"  I  look  at  him  now  and  when  he  lived  with  me.  He  appears  different. 
I  could  not  get  any  thing  that  appeared  like  sorrow  for  what  he  had 
done,  or  feeling  for  the  crime.     I  don't  think  him  much  above  a  brute." 

John  R.  Hopkims  says  :  "  I  think  him  in  intelligence  but  little  above 
the  brute." 

I  need  not  pursue  the  parallel  further.  There  is  no  dispute  as  to  his 
present  ignorance  and  debasement. 

Dr.  DiMON,  a  witness  for  the  People,  although  he  pronounces  the  pri- 
soner sane,  says  he  should  think  "  he  has  not  as  much  intellect  as  a 
child  of  fourteen  years  of  age ;  is  in  some  respects  hardly  equal  to  a 
child  of  three  or  four,"  and  in  regard  to  knowledge  compares  him  with 
••  a  child  two  or  three  years  old,  who  knows  his  A,  B,  C,  and  can't  count 
twenty-eight " 

Dr.  Bjgelow,  a  leading  witness  for  the  people,  declares  :  "  I  believe 
him  to  be  a  dull,  stupid,  moody,  morose,  depraved,  degraded  negro,  but 
not  insane ;"  and  Dr.  Spencer,  swearing  to  the  same  conclusion,  says: 
"  He  is  but  little  above  the  brute,  yet  not  insane." 

1  submit  to  you.  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury,  that  by  comparing  the  prisoner 
with  himself,  as  he  was  in  his  earlier,  and  as  he  is  in  his  later  history,  I 
have  proved  to  you  conclusively  that  he  is  visibly  changed  and  altered  in 
mind,  manner,  conversation  and  action,  and  that  all  his  faculties  have  be- 
come disturbed,  impaired,  degraded  and  debased.  I  submit  also  that  it  is 
proved  :  Jirst,  that  this  change  occurred  between  the  sixteenth  and  the 
eighteenth  years  of  his  life,  in  the  State  Prison,  and  that  fherefore  the 
change,  thus  palpable  was  not,  as  the  Attorney  General  contends,  effected 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  31 

by  mere  lapse  of  time  and  increase  of  years,  nor  by  the  natural  develope- 
ment  of  latent  dispositions  :  Secondly,  that  inasmuch  as  the  convicts  in 
the  State  Prison  are  absolutely  abstemious  from  intoxicating  drinks,  the 
change  was  not,  as  the  Attorney  General  supposes,  produced  by  intem- 
perance. 

I  have  thus  arrived  at  the  third  proposition  in  this  case,  which  is, 
that 

The  Prisoner  at  the  Bar  is  Insane. 

This  I  shall  demonstrate, ^r5^  by  the  fact  already  so  fully  established, 
that  the  prisoner  is  changed ;  Secondly,  by  referring  to  the  predisposing 
causes  which  might  be  expected  to  produce.  Insanity  ;  Thirdly,  by  the 
incoherence  and  extravagance  of  the  prisoner's  conduct  and  conversation, 
and  the  delusions  under  which  he  has  labored. 

And  now  as  to  predisposing  causes.  The  prisoner  was  born  in  this 
village,  twenty-three  years  ago,  of  parents  recently  emerged  from  slavery. 
His  mother  was  a  woman  of  violent  passions,  severe  discipline,  and  ad- 
dicted to  intemperance.  His  father  died  of  delirium  tremens,  leaving  his 
children  to  the  neglect  of  the  world,  from  which  he  had  learned  nothing 
but  its  vices. 

Hereditary  insanity  was  added  to  the  prisoner's  misfortunes,  already 
sufficiently  complicated.  His  aunt,  Jane  Brown,  died  a  lunatic.  His 
uncle,  Sidney  Freeman,  is  an  acknowledged  lunatic. 

All  writers  agree,  what  it  needs  not  writers  should  teach,  that  neglect 
of  education  is  a  fruitful  cause  of  Insanity.  If  neglect  of  education  pro- 
duces crime,  it  equally  produces  Insanity.  Here  was  a  bright,  cheerful, 
happy  child,  destined  to  become  a  member  of  the  social  state,  entitled  by 
the  principles  of  our  Government  to  equal  advantages  for  perfecting  him- 
self in  intelligence,  and  even  in  political  rights,  with  each  of  the  three 
millions  of  our  citizens,  and  blessed  by  our  religion  with  equal  hopes. 
Without  his  being  taught  to  read,  his  mother,  who  lives  by  menial  ser- 
vice, sends  him  forth  at  the  age  of  eight  or  nine  years  to  like  employment. 
Reproaches  are  cast  on  his  mother,  on  JVIr.  Warden,  and  on  Mr.  Lynch, 
for  not  sending  him  to  school,  but  these  reproaches  are  all  unjust.  How 
could  she,  poor  degraded  Negress  and  Indian  as  she  was,  send  her  child 
to  school  ?  And  where  was  the  school  to  which  Warden  and  Lynch 
'should  have  sent  him  ?  There  was  no  school  for  him.  His  few  and 
wretched  years  date  back  to  the  beginning  of  my  acquaintance  here,  and 
during  all  that  time,  with  unimportant  exceptions,  there  has  been  no 
school  here  for  children  of  his  caste.  A  school  for  colored  children  was 
never  established  here,  and  all  the  common  schools  were  closed  against 
them.  Money  would  always  procure  instruction  for  my  children,  and 
relieve  me  from  the  responsibility.  But  the  colored  children,  who  have 
from  time  to  time  been  confided  to  my  charge,  have  been  cast  upon  ray 


32  DEFENCE    OP 

own  care  for  education.  When  I  sent  them  to  school  with  my  own 
children,  they  were  sent  back  to  me  with  a  message  that  they  must  be 
withdrawn  because  they  were  black,  or  the  school  would  cease.  Here 
are  the  fruits  of  this  unmanly  and  criminal  prejudice.  A  whole  family 
is  cut  offin  the  midst  of  usefulness  and  honors  by  the  hand  of  an  assas- 
sin. You  may  avenge  the  crime,  but  whether  the  prisoner  be  insane  or 
criminal,  there  is  a  tribunal  where  this  neglect  will  plead  powerfully  in 
his  excuse,  and  trumpet-tongued  against  the  *'  deep  damnation"  of  his 
"  taking  off." 

Again.  The  prisoner  was  subjected,  in  tender  years,  to  severe  and 
undeserved  oppression.  Whipped  at  Lynch's  ;  severely  and  unlawfully 
beaten  by  Wellington,  for  the  venial  offence  of  forgetting  to  return  a 
borrowed  umbrella ;  hunted  by  the  Police  on  charges  of  petty  offences, 
of  which  he  was  proved  innocent;  finally,  convicted,  upon  constructive 
and  probably  perjured  evidence,  qf  a  crime,  of  which  it  is  now  univer- 
sally admitted  he  was  guiltless,  he  was  plunged  into  the  State  Prison  at 
the  age  of  sixteen,  instead  of  being  committed  to  a  House  of  Refuge. 

Mere  imprisonment  is  often  a  cause  of  Insanity.  Four  insane  persons 
have,  on  this  trial,  been  mentioned  as  residing  among  us,  all  of  whom 
became  insane  in  the  State  Prison.  Authentic  statistics  show  that  there 
are  never  less  than  thirty  iiksane  persons  in  each  of  our  two  great  peni- 
tentiaries. In  the  State  Prison  the  prisoner  was  subjected  to  severe  cor- 
poreal punishment,  by  keepers,  who  mistook  a  decay  of  mind  and  mor- 
bid melancholy,  for  idleness,  obstinacy  and  malice.  Beaten,  as  he  was, 
until  the  orgajns  of  his  hearing  ceased  to  perform  their  functions,  who 
shall  say  that  other  and  more  important  organs  connected  with  the  action 
of  his  mind  did  not  become  diseased  through  sympathy  ?  Such  a  life,  so 
filled  with  neglect,  injustice  and  severity,  with  anxiety,  pain,  disappoint- 
ment, solicitude,  and  grief,  would  liave  its  fitting  conclusion  in  a  mad- 
house. If  it  be  true,  as  the  wisest  of  inspired  writers  hath  said,  "  Verily 
oppression  maketh  a  wise  man  mad,"  what  may  we  not  expect  it  to  do 
with  a  foolish,  ignorant,  illiterate  man  !  Thus  it  is  explained  why,  when 
he  came  out  of  prison,  he  was  so  dull,  stupid,  morose ;  excited  to  anger 
by  petty  troubles,  small  in  our  view,  but  mountains  in  his  way  ;  filled 
in  his  waking  hours  with  moody  recollections,  and  rising  at  midnight  to 
sing  incoherent  songs,  dance  without  music,  read  unintelligible  jargon, 
and  combat  with  imaginary  enemies. 

How  otherwise  than  on  the  score  of  madness  can  you  explain  the  stu- 
pidity which  caused  him  to  be  taken  for  a  fool  at  Applegate's,  on  his 
way  from  the  prison  to  his  home  ?  How  else  the  ignorance  which  made 
him  incapable  of  distinguishing  the  coin  which  he  offered  at  the  hatters 
shop  ?  How  else  his  ludicrous  apprehensions  of  being  recommitted  to 
the  State  Prison  for  five  years,  for  the  offence  of  breaking  his  dinner 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  33 

knife  ?  How  else  his  odd  and  strange  manner  of  accounting  for  his  deaf- 
ness, by  expressions,  all  absurd  and  senseless,  and  varying  with  each 
interrogator :  as  to  John  Depuy,  "  that  Tyler  struck  him  across  the  ears 
with  a  plank,  and  knocked  his  hearing  off,  and  that  it  never  came  back  ; 
that  they  put  salt  in  his  ear,  but  it  didn't  do  any  good,  for  his  hearing 
was  gone- all  knocked  off""';  to  the  Rev.  John  M.  Austin,  "  the  stones 
dropped  down  my  ears,  or  the  stones  of  my  ears  dropped  down  "  ;  to 
Ethan  A.  Warden,  "  got  stone  in  my  ear ;  got  it  out ;  thought  I  heard 
better  when  I  got  it  out" ;  to  Dr.  Hermance,  "  that  his  ears  dropped"  ; 
and  to  the  same  witness  on  another  occasion,  "  that  the  hearing  of  his 
ears  fell  down  "  ;  to  his  mother,  "  that  his  ear  had  fell  down  "  ;  to  Debo- 
rah Depuy,  "  that  Tyler  struck  him  on  the  head  with  a  board,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  the  sound  went  down  his  throat "  ;  to  Dr.  Brigham,  "  that 
he  was  hurt  when  young,  it  made  him  deaf  in  the  right  ear";  also, 
*«  that  in  the  prison  he  was  struck  with  a  board  by  a  man,  which  made 
him  deaf" ;  and  also,  "  that  a  stone  was  knocked  into,  or  out  of  his  ear"  ? 
It  is  now  perfectly  certain,  from  the  testimony  of  Mr.  Van  Arsdale 
and  Helen  Holmes,  that  the  prisoner  first  stabbed  Mrs.  Van  Nest,  in 
the  back  yard,  and  then  entered  the  house  and  stabbed  Mr.  Van  Nest, 
who  fell  lifeless  at  the  instant  of  the  blow.  And  yet,  sincerely  trying 
to  give  an  account  of  the  dreadful  scenes,  exactly  as  they  passed,  the 
prisoner  has  invariably  stated,  in  his  answers  to  every  witness,  that  he 
entered  the  house,  stabbed  Van  Nest,  went  into  the  yard,  and  then,  and 
not  before,  killed  Mrs.  Van  Nest.  It  was  in  this  order  that  he  related 
the  transaction  to  Warren  T.  Worden,  to  John  M.  Austin,  to  Ira 
Curtis,  to  Ethan  A.  Warden,  to  William  P.  Smith,  to  Dr.  Van  Epps, 
to  James  H.  Bostwick,  to  Dr.  Brigham,  to  Nathaniel  Lynch,  to  Dr. 
Willard,  to  Dr.  Bigelow,  and  to  Dr.  Spencer.  How  else  than  on  the 
score  of  madness  can  you  explain  this  confusion  of  memory  ?  and  if  the 
prisoner  was  sane,  and  telling  a  falsehood,  what  was  the  motive .' 

How  else  than  on  the  score  of  a  demented  mind  will  you  explain  the 
fact,  that  he  is  without  human  curiosity  ;  that  he  has  never,  since  he 
came  out  of  prison,  learned  a  fact,  or  asked  a  question  ?  He  has  been 
visited  by  hundreds  in  his  cell,  by  faces  become  familiar,  and  by  stran- 
gers, by  fellow  prisoners,  by  jailers,  by  sheriff",  by  counsel,  by  physician, 
by  friends,  by  enemies,  and  by  relations,  and  they  unanimously  bear 
witness  that  he  has  never  asked  a  question.  The  oyster,  shut  up  within 
its  limestone  walls,  is  as  inquisitive  as  he. 

How  else  will  you  explain  the  mystery  that  he,  who  seven  years  ago 
had  the  capacity  to  relate  connectively  any  narrative,  however  extended, 
and  however  complex  in  its  details,  is  now  unable  to  continue  any  rela- 
tion of  the  most  recent  events,  without  the  prompting  of  perpetual  inter- 
rogatories, always  leading  him  by  known  landmarks ;  and  that  when 


34  DEFENCE    OF 

under  sucVdiscipline  he  answers,  he  employs  generally  only  the  easiest 
forms,  '♦  Yes,"  "  No,"  "  Don't  know"  ? 

Then  mark  the  confusion  of  his  memory,  mar- V  '  '  ^v  -*-'>*rotiictory 
replies  to  the  same  question.  Warren  T.  Worden  asked  him:  "  Did 
you  go  in  at  the  front  door  ?  Yes.  Did  you  go  in  at  the  back  door  ? 
Yes.  Were  you  in  the  hall  when  your  hand  was  cut  ?  Yes.  Was 
your  hand  cut  at  the  gate  ?  Yes.  Did  you  stab  Mrs.  Wyckoff  in  the 
hall  ?  Yes.  Did  you  stab  Mrs.  WyckofF  at  the  gate  ?  Yes.  Did  you 
go  out  at  the  back  door  ?    Yes.    Did  you  go  out  at  the  front  door  ?    Yes.'* 

Ethan  A.  Warden  asked  him,  "  What  made  you  kill  the  child  ?'* 
"  Don't  know  any  thing  about  that."  At  another  time  he  answered,  "  I 
don't  think  about  il ;  1  didn't  know  it  was  a  child."  And  again,  on  an- 
other occasion,  "Thought — feel  it  more;"  and  to  Dr.  Bigelow%  and 
other  witnesses,  who  put  the  question,  whether  he  was  not  sorry  he  had 
killed  the  child,  he  replied,  "  It  did  look  hard — T  rather  it  was  bigger." 
When  the  ignorance,  simplicity,  and  sincerity  of  the  prisoner  are  admit- 
ted, how  otherwise  than  on  the  ground  of  insanity,  can  you  explain  such 
inconsistencies  as  these  ? 

The  testimony  of  Van  Arsdale  and  Helen  Holmes,  proves  that  no 
words  could  have  passed  between  the  prisoner  and  Van  Nest,  except 
these  ,  "  What  do  you  want  here  in  the  house  ?"  spoken  by  Van  Nest, 
before  the  fatal  blow  w^as  struck.  Yet  when  inquired  of  by  Warren  T. 
Worden  what  Van  Nest  said  to  him  when  he  entered  the  house,  the 
prisoner  said,  after  being  pressed  for  an  answer,  that  Van  Nest  said  to 
him,  "  If  you  eat  my  liver,  I'll  eat  yours  "  ;  and  he  at  various  times  re- 
peated to  the  witness  the  same  absurd  expression.  To  the  Rev.  John 
M.  Austin  he  made  the  same  statement,  that  Van  Nest  said,  "  If  you  eat 
my  liver,  I'll  eat  your  liver  "  ;  to  Ira  Curtis  the  same  ;  to  Ethan  A. 
Warden  the  same ;  to  Lansingh  Briggs  the  same  ;  and  the  same  to  al- 
most every  other  witness.  An  expression  so  absurd  under  the  circum- 
stances, could  never  have  been  made  by  the  victim.  How  otherwise  can 
It  be  explained  than  as  the  vagary  of  a  mind  shattered  and  crazed  ? 

The  prosecution,  confounded  with  this  evidence,  appealed  to  Dr.  Spen- 
cer for  relief.  He,  in  the  plenitude  of  his  learning,  says,  that  he  has 
read  of  an  ancient  and  barbarous  Pebple,  who  used  to  feast  upon  the 
livers  of  their  enemies,  that  the  prisoner  has  not  imagination  enough  to 
have  invented  such  an  idea,  and  that  he  must  have  somewhere  heard  the 
tradition.  But  when  did  this  demented  wretch,  who  reads  "  woman  " 
for  "admirable,"  and  "cook"  for  "Thompson,"  read  Livy  or  Tytler, 
and  in  what  classical  circle  has  he  learned  the  customsnof  the  ancients? 
Or,  what  perhaps  is  more  pertinent,  who  were  that  ancient  and  barbarous 
People,  and  who  was  their  Historian  ? 

Consider  now  the  prisoner's  earnest  and  well-attested  sincerity  in  be- 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  35 

lieving  that  he  could  read,  when  either  he  never  had  acquired,  or  else 
had  lost,  the  power  of  reading.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Austin,  visited  him  in 
jail,  at  an  early  day,  asked  him  whether  he  could  read,  and  being  an- 
swered that  he  could,  gave  him  a  Testament.  In  frequent  visits  after- 
wards, when  the  prisoner  was  asked  whether  he  had  read  his  Testament, 
he  answered,  "  Yes,"  and  it  was  not  until  after  the  lapse  of  two  months 
that  it  was  discovered  that  he  was  unable  to  spell  a  monosyllable. 

Ira  Curtis  says :  "  I  asked  him  if  he  could  read,  he  said,  *  Yes,'  and 
commenced  reading,  that  is  he  pretended  to,  but  he  didn't  read  what  was 
there.  He  read,  '  Ok  !  Lord — mercy — Moses' — and  other  words  mixed 
up  in  that  way.  The  words  were  not  in  the  place  where  he  seemed  to 
be  reading,  and  it  was  no  reading  at  all,  and  some  words  he  had  over  I 
had  never  heard  before.  I  took  the  book  from  him,  saying,  *  You  don't 
read  right.'  He  said,  *  Yes,  I  do.'  I  said,  '  William,  you  can't  read.' 
He  said,  '  I  can.'  I  gave  him  a  paper,  pointed  him  to  the  word  •  admira- 
ble ' — he  pronounced  it '  woman.'  I  pointed  to  the  word  '  Thompson ' — 
he  read  it  *  cook.'  He  knew  his  letters,  and  called  them  accurately,  but 
could  not  combine  them.  I  asked  him  to  count.  He  commenced  and 
counted  from  one  up  to  twenty,  hesitated  there  some  time,  and  finally 
counted  up  to  twenty-eight,  and  then  jumped  to  eighty.  Then  I  started 
him  at  twenty,  and  he  said  *  one.'  I  told  him  to  say  '  twenty-one  ' ;  but 
he  seemed  to  have  difficulty  in  saying  *  twenty-one.'  He  tried  to  go  on. 
He  did  count  up  to  twenty  regularly,  by  hesitating ;  but  never  went 
higher  than  twenty-eight  correctly.  I  asked  him  how  much  two  times 
four  was, — he  said  '  eighty."  How  much  two  times  three  was — he  said, 
'  sixty  or  sixty-four.' "  Many  other  witnesses  on  both  sides  of  this  cause, 
Mr.  Austin,  Mr.  Hopkins,  Mr.  Hotchkiss,  Mr.  Worden,  Mr.  Smith, 
Dr.  Van  Epps,  Dr.  Brigham,  Dr.  McCall,  Dr.  Coventry,  Dr.  Willard, 
Dr.  BiGELOw,  Dr.  Clary  and  Dr.  Spencer,  have  with  varied  ingenuity, 
sought  to  detect  a  fraud  in  this  extreme  ignorance  and  simplicity,  and 
have  unanimously  testified  to  you  that  the  simpleton  sincerely  believes 
he  reads  accurately,  and  as  honestly  thinks  he  counts  above  twenty-eight 
correctly,  while  in  truth  he  cannot  advance  beyond  that  number  in  count j 
ing,  and  cannot  read  at  all.  Yet  he  must,  at  least,  have  learned  in  the 
Sunday  School  that  he  could  not  read,  and  the  Keepers  of  the  Prison 
show  that  he  put  up  his  daily  manufacture  of  rings  and  of  skeins  of 
thread,  in  quantities  accurately  counted,  to  the  number  of  several  dozea 

I  think  you  will  agree  with  Doctor  Hun,  that  there  is  not  a  sane  man 
twenty-three  years  of  age,  brought  up  in  this  country,  who  does  not 
know  whether  he  can  read,  and  who  cannot  count  twenty-nine. 

Mark  his  indifference  and  stupidity  as  to  his  situation.  Ethan  A. 
Warden  asked  him,  "  do  you  expect  to  be  hung  .'  *  Don't  think  about 
it.'    Do  you  like  to  be  in  jail  ?    '  Pretty  well.'    Is  it  a  good  place  ? 


36  DEFENCE    OF 

*  Yes.'    Do  you  sleep  well  ?     •  Yes.'    Do  you  think  of  what"  you've 
done  ?     '  No.'  " 

William  P.  Smith  asked  him  in  the  jail  if  he  knew  whether  he  waa 
in  jail  or  in  the  Prison.     He  hesitated  some  time,  and  finally  thought  he* 
was  in  the  jail,  but  wasn't  sure.     "  Do  you  know  what  you  are  confined 
here  for  r"     "  No." 

Dr.  Van  Epps  asked  him  what  he  was  put  in  jail  for.  "  Don't 
know."    Afterwards  he  seemed  to  recollect  himself  and  said,  •* horse" 

Dr.  Brigham  says,  "  I  tried  in  various  ways  to  ascertain  if  he  knew 
what  he  was  to  be  tried  for.  I  tried  repeatedly  and  never  could  get  a 
distinct  answer.  It  was  often  •  I  don't  know,'  and  sometimes  '  a  horse.* 
I  asked  him  at  one  time,  what  his  defence  would  be.  Shall  we  say  that 
you  did  not  kill  ?  He  answered  very  quickly,  looking  up,  '  No.'  But 
may  we  not  say  so  ?  '  No,  that  would  be  wrong  ;  I  did  do  it.'  Some 
one  asked  him  when  others  were  there.  May  we  say  you  are  crazy  ?  *  I 
can't  go  so  far  as  that.'  I  asked  him  if  he  had  employed  any  body  to 
defend  him,  and  said,  Mr.  Seward  is  now  here,  you  had  better  employ 
him  and  tell  him  what  to  say.  Here  is  Mr.  Seward,  ask  him.  He  said 
in  a  reading  tone,  •  Governor  Seward,  I  want  you  to  defend  me,'  repeat- 
ing the  words  I  had  told  him  to  use." 

When  on  trial  for  stealing  a  horse,  six  years  ago,  he  had  counsel  of 
his  own  choice,  and  was  treated  and  tried  as  a  man  who  understood  and 
knew  his  rights,  as  indeed  it  is  proved  that  he  did.  Here,  his  life  is  at 
stake.  He  does  not  know  even  the  name  of  a  witness  for  or  against 
him,  although  his  memory  recalls  the  names  of  those  who  testified  against 
him  on  his  trial  for  stealing  the  horse,  and  the  very  eflfect'of  their  testi- 
mony. 

Dr.  Brigham  says,  "  I  asked  him  what  he  could  prove  in  his  defence. 
He  replied,  '  the  jury  can  prove  that  I  was  in  prison  five  years  for  steal- 
ing a  horse,  and  didn't  steal  it.' " 

When  asked  if  he  is  not  sorry  for  crimes  so  atrocious,  he  answers 
always,  either,  "No,"  or  *'  Don't  know." 

On  the  very  day  when  he  was  to  be  arraigned,  he  had  no  counsel ;  and, 
as  Mr.  Austin  testifies,  was  made  to  understand,  with  difficulty,  enough 
to  repeat  like  a  parrot  a  consent  that  I  should  defend  him.  The  Attor- 
ney General  says,  the  prisoner  "  knew  he  was  guilty,  and  that  counsel 
could  do  nothing  for  him.  If  he  was  as  wise  and  as  intelligent  as  Bacon 
himself,  he  could  give  no  instructions  to  counsel  that  would  help  him." 
Aye,  but  is  he  as  wise  and  as  intelligent  as  Bacon  ?  No,  Gentlemen,  no 
man  ever  heard  of  a  sane  murderer  in  whose  bosom  the  love  of  life  and 
the  fear  of  death  were  alike  extinguished. 

The  accused  sat  here  in  court,  and  saw  Dr.  Bigelow  on  the  stand, 
swearing  away  his  life,  upon  confessions  already  taken.     Dr.  Bigelow 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  3T 

followed  him  from  the  court  to  his  cell,  and  there  the  prisoner,  with 
child-like  meekness,  sat  down  on  his  bench  and  confessed  further  for 
hours,  all  the  while  holding  the  lamp  by  whose  light  Dr.  Bigexow  re- 
corded the  testimony,  obtained  for  the  purpose  of  sealing  his  fale  beyond 
a  possible  deliverance. 

He  was  asked  about  the  Judges  here,  was  ignorant  where  they  sat, 
and  could  only  remember  that  there  was  a  good  looking  man  on  the  ele- 
vated stage,  which  he  was  told  was  the  bench.  He  was  asked  what  they 
say  in  court,  and  he  says  "  They  talk,  but  I  hear  nothing";  what  or 
whom  they  are  talking  about,  and  he  says  "  Don't  know" ;  whom  he  ha« 
seen  here,  and  he  recalls  not  his  Judges,  the  Jury,  the  Witnesses  or  the 
Counsel,  but  only  the  man  who  gave  him  tobacco. 

From  his  answers  to  Mr.  Hopkins,  Mr.  Austin,  Mr.  Smith,  and  others, 
as  well  as  from  the  more  reliable  testimony  of  his  mother,  of  his  brother- 
in-law,  of  Mr.  Lynch,  Mr.  Warden,  Mr.  Hotchkiss,  and  others,  we 
learn  that  in  his  childhood,  and  in  State  Prison,  he  attended  Sunday 
School  and  Divine  Worship.  Yet  we  find  him  at  the  age  of  twenty-three, 
after  repeated  religious  instructions,  having  no  other  idea  of  a  Supreme 
Being  and  of  a  future  state  than  that  Heaven  was  a  place  above,  and  God 
was  above,  but  that  God  was  no  more  than  a  man  or  an  animal.  And 
when  asked  by  Mr.  Hopkins  what  he  knew  about  Jesus  Christ,  he  an- 
swered that  he  once  came  to  Sunday  School  in  the  State  Prison.  What 
did  he  do  there  ?  "  Don't  know."  Did  he  take  a  class  there  ?  *'  Don't 
know."  Did  he  preach  .'  Don't  know."  Did  he  talk  ?  Don't  know." 
The  prisoner  gave  the  same  answers  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Austin,  to  Mr. 
Hopkins,  his  Sunday  School  teacher,  and  to  Dr.  Brigham. 

Mr.  Horace  Hotchkiss  says  :  "  I  asked  him  in  the  jail,  If  you  shall 
be  convicted  and  executed,  what  will  become  of  you  ?  He  answered, 
*  Go  to  Heaven.'  I  asked  him  why,  and  he  replied,  *  Because  I  am 
good.'"  Dr.  Brigham  inquired:  "Do  you  know  any  thing  of  Jesus 
Christ  ?"  "  I  saw  him  once."  "  Did  you  kill  him  at  Van  Nest's  ?"  The 
poor  fool  (as  if  laboring  with  some  confused  and  inexplicable  idea)  said, 
"Dont  know."  I  think,  Gentlemen,  that  you  will  agree  with  Dr.  Hun, 
Dr.  Brigham,  and  the  other  intelligent  witnesses,  who  say  that,  in  their 
opinion,  there  is  no  sane  man  of  the  age  of  twenty-three,  who  has  been 
brought  up  in  church-going  families,  and  been  sent  to  Sunday  School, 
whose  religious  sentiments  would,  under  such  circumstances,  be  so  con- 
fused and  so  absurd  as  these. 

To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Austin,  he  said  after  his  arrest,  "  li  they  will  let  me 
go  this  time,  I  will  try  and  do  better."  And  well  did  that  witness  re- 
maik,  that  such  a  statement  evinced  a  want  of  all  rational  appreciation 
of  the  nature  and  enormity  of  his  acts,  for  no  man  twenty-three  years 
old,  possessing  a  sound  mind,  and  guilty  of  four-fold  murders,  could  sup- 


88  DEFENCE    OF 

pose  that  he  would  be  allowed  to  escape  all  punishment  by  simply  pro- 
mising, like  a  petulant  child,  that  he  would  "  do  better." 

Mark  his  insensibility  to  corporeal  pain  and  suffering.  In  the  conflict 
with  Mrs.  Wykoff,  he  received  a  blow  which  divided  a  sinew  in  his 
wrist,  and  penetrated  to  the  bone.  The  physicians  found  him  in  the  jail 
with  this  wound,  his  legs  chained,  and  heavy  irons  depending  une- 
qually from  his  knees.  Yet  he  manifested  absolute  insensibility.  Insane 
men  are  generally  very  insensible  to  pain.  The  reason  is,  that  the  ner- 
vous system  is  diseased,  and  the  senses  do  not  convey  to  the  mind  ac- 
curate ideas  of  injuries  sustained.  Nevertheless,  this  passes  for  nothing 
with  Dr.  Spencer,  because  there  was  an  ancient  sect  of  philosophers  who 
triumphed,  or  affected  to  triumph,  over  the  weakness  of  our  common  na- 
ture, and  because  there  are  modern  heroes  who  die  without  a  groan  on 
the  field  of  battle.  But  in  what  school  of  philosophy,  or  in  what  army, 
or  in  what  battle-ship  was  this  idiot  trained,  that  he  has  become  insen- 
sible ta  pain,  and  reckless  of  death  ? 

I  proposed,  Gentlemen,  at  the  close  of  the  testimony,  that  you  should 
examine  the  prisoner  for  yourselves.  I  regret  that  the  offer  was  rejected. 
You  can  obtain  only  very  imperfect  knowledge  from  testimony  in  which 
the  answers  of  the  prisoner  are  given  with  the  freedom  and  volubility  of 
the  interrogators.  We  often  judge  more  justly  from  the  tone,  man- 
ner, and  spirit  of  those  with  whom  we  converse,  than  from  the  language 
they  use.  All  the  witnesses  agree  that  the  prisoner's  tone  and  modula- 
tion are  slow,  indistinct,  and  monotonous.  His  utterance,  in  fact,  is  that 
oi  an  idiot,  but  on  paper  it  is  as  distinct  as  that  of  Cicero. 

I  have  thus  shown  you.  Gentlemen,  the  difficulties  which  attend  you  in 
this  investigation,  the  law  concerning  insanity,  the  nature  and  character- 
istics of  that  disease,  the  great  change  which  the  prisoner  has  undergone, 
and  some  of  those  marked  extravagances  which  denote  lunacy.  More 
conclusive  evidence  yet  remains  ;  and  first,  the  delusion  by  which  the 
prisoner  was  overpowered,  and  under  whose  fearful  spell  his  crimes 
were  committed. 

Delusion  does  not  always  attend  insanity,  but  when  found,  it  is  the 
most  unequivocal  of  all  proofs.  I  have  already  observed  that  melancholy 
is  the  first  stage  of  madness,  and  long  furnished  the  name  for  insanity. 
In  the  case  of  Hatfield,  who  fired  at  the  King  in  Drury-Lane  Theatre, 
Lord  Erskine,  his  Counsel,  demonstrated  that  insanity  did  not  consist  in 
the  absence  of  any  of  the  intellectual  faculties,  but  in  delusion  ;  and  that 
an  offender  was  irresponsible,  if  his  criminal  acts  were  the  immediate, 
unqualified  offspring  of  such  delusion.  Erskine  there  defined  a  delusion 
to  consist  in  deductions  from  the  immovable  assumption  of  matters  as  re- 
alities, either  without  any  foundation  whatever,  or  so  distorted  and  dis- 
figured by  fancy  as  to  be  nearly  the  same  thing  as  their  creation. 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  39 

The  learned  men  here  have  given  us  many  illustrations  of  such  delu- 
sions; as  that  of  the  man  who  believes  that  his  legs  are  of  glass, 
and  therefore  refuses  to  move,  for  fear  they  will  break  ;  of  the  man  who 
fancies  himself  the  King  of  the  French  ;  or  of  him  who  conjfides  to  you 
the  precious  secret,  that  he  is  Emperor  of  the  world.  These  are  palpa- 
ble delusions,  but  there  are  others  equally,  or  even  more  fatal  in  their 
effects,  which  have  their  foundation  in  some  original  fact,  and  are  thus 
described  by  Dr.  Ray,  at  page  210  of  his  work  : 

*'  In  another  class  of  cases,  the  exciting  cause  of  homicidal  insanity  is 
of  a  moral  nature,  operating  upon  some  peculiarphysical  pre-disposition, 
and  sometimes  followed  by  more  or  less  physical  disturbance.  Instead 
of  being  urged  by  a  sudden  imperious  impulse  to  kill,  the  subjects  of 
this  form  of  the  affection,  after  suffering  for  a  certain  period  much  gloom 
of  mind  and  depression  of  spirits,  feel  as  if  bound  by  a  sense  of  neces- 
sity to  destroy  life,  and  proceed  to  the  fulfilment  of  their  destiny,  with 
the  utmost  calmness  and  deliberation.  So  reluctant  have  courts  and  ju- 
ries usually  been  to  receive  the  plea  of  insanity  in  defence  of  crime,  de- 
liberately planned  and  executed  by  a  mind  in  which  no  derangement  of 
intellect  has  ever  been  perceived,  that  it  is  of  the  greatest  importance 
that  the  nature  of  these  cases  should  not  be  misunderstood." 

Our  learned  witnesses  have  given  us  various  definitions  of  a  delusion. 
Dr.  Hun's  is  perhaps  as  clear  and  accurate  as  any  ;  "  It  is  a  cherished 
opinion  opposed  by  the  sense  and  judgment  of  a.11  mankind."  In  simple 
speech,  it  is  what  is  called  the  predominance  of  one  idea,  by  which  rea- 
son is  subverted.  I  shall  now  show  you  such  a  predominance  of  one 
idea,  as  will  elucidate  the  progress  of  this  maniac,  from  the  first  disturb- 
ance of  his  mind,  to  the  dreadful  catastrophe  on  the  shore  of  the  Owasco 
lake.  That  delusion  is  a  star  to  guide  your  judgments  to  an  infallible 
conclusion,  that  the  prisoner  is  insane.  *rf  you  mistake  its  course,  and 
consign  him  to  a  scaffold,  it  will  rest  over  his  grave,  indicating  him  as 
a  martyr,  and  you  as  erring  or  unjust  judges. 

In  April,  1840,  Mrs.  Godfrey,  who  resides  in  the  town  of  Sennett, 
on  the  middle  road,  four  miles  north-east  of  Auburn,  lost  a  horse.  One 
Jack  Furman,  a  hardened  offender,  stole  the  horse.  For  some  purpose, 
not  now  known,  he  put  him  into  the  care  of  the  prisoner,  who  was  seen 
with  him.  Both  Furman  and  Freeman  were  arrested.  The  former  was 
the  real  thief  and  Freeman  constructively  guilty.  Freeman  was  arrested 
by  Vanderheyden,  taken  into  an  upper  chamber,  and  there  declared  his 
innocence  of  the  crime.  He  was  nevertheless  committed  to  jail.  All  the 
police,  and  the  most  prejudiced  of  the  witnesses  for  the  people,  have  tes- 
tified their  entire  conviction  that  the  prisoner  was  innocent.  Furman 
was  selected  by  favor  as  a  witness  for  the  people.  Freeman,  while  in 
jail,  comprehending  his  danger,  and  conscious  of  his  innocence,  dwelt 


46  DEFENCE    OF 

upon  the  injustice,  until,  having  no  other  hope,  he  broke  prison  and  es- 
caped. Being  re-taken,  he  assigned  as  the  reason  for  his  flight,  that  Jack' 
Furman  stole  the  horse,  and  was  going  to  swear  him  into  the  State  Prison. 
The  result  was  as  he  apprehended.  He  was  convicted  by  the  perjury  of 
Furman,  and  sentenced  to  the  State  Prison  for  five  years.  This  was  the 
first  act  in  the  awful  tragedy,  of  which  he  is  the  hero.  Let  Judges  and 
Jurors  take  warning  from  its  fatal  consequences.  How  deeply  this  in- 
justice sank  into  his  mind,  may  be  seen  from  the  testimony  of  Aretas 
A.  Sabin,  the  keeper,  who  said  to  him  on  the  day  he  entered  the  Prison^ 
"  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  come  here  so  young."  The  prisoner  wepl. 
Well  would  it  have  been,  if  this,  the  last  occasion  on  which  the  prisoner 
yielded  to  that  infirmity,  had,  ominous  as  it  was  of  such  fatal  mischief, 
been  understood  and  heeded. 

A  year  passed  away  ;  and  he  is  found  in  the  Prison,  neglecting  his  al- 
lotted labor,  sullen,  and  morose. 

James  E.  Tyler,  the  keeper,  says  :  "  I  had  talked  to  him,  and  found 
it  did  no  good.  I  called  him  up  t©  punish  him — told  him  I  was  going  to 
punish  him  for  not  doing  more  work,  and  should  do  so  repeatedly  until 
he  should  do  more  work.  When  I  talked  with  him  about  doing  more 
work,  he  gave  as  an  excuse,  *  that  he  was  there  wrongfully,  and  ought 
not  to  work.'"  The  excuse  aggravated  the  severity  of  his  castigation. 
Such  was  Penitentiary  cure  for  insipient  insanity. 

Van  Kuren,  a  foreman  in  one  of  the  shops  at  the  Prison,  represents 
the  prisoner  as  sullen,  intractable,  and  insolent.  He  caused  him  to  be 
punished,  although  he  then  discovered,  on  all  occasions,  that  idiotic 
laugh,  without  cause  or  motive,  which  marks  the  maniac. 

Siij\s  E.  Baker  remarked  the  same  idiotic  laugh  when  the  prisoner 
was  at  his  work,  in  his  cell,  and  in  the  Chapel. 

William  P.  Smith,  a  foreman  in  the  Prison,  remarked  his  peculiari- 
ties, but  unfortunately  was  not  then  led  to  their  true  cause. 

Theron  R.  Green,  as  has  been  already  seen,  discovered  the  same  pe- 
culiarities, divined  their  cause,  held  him  irresponsible,  and  gave  an  un- 
heeded warning  against  his  enlargement. 

The  discipline  of  the  Prison  forbids  conversation  between  convict  and 
convict,  and  between  keepers  and  prisoners.  The  iron  that  had  entered 
the  prisoner*s  soul  was  necessarily  concealed,  but  Depuy,  and  Warden, 
and  Green,  who  thought  him  changed  then,  as  well  as  Smith,  Van  Ku- 
ren, Baker,  and  Tyler,  who  regarded  him  only  as  ignorant  and  obsti- 
nate, give  conclusive  evidence  that  the  ruin  of  his  mind  was  betrayed,  in 
a  visible  change  of  his  appearance,  conduct  and  character. 

The  time  at  length  arrived,  when  the  secret  could  no  longer  be  sup- 
pressed. The  new  Chaplain,  the  Rev.  Alonzo  Wood,  was  in  the  Agent's 
office  when  the  prisoner  was  discharged.     Two  dollars,  the  usual  gratu- 


WILLIAM    FilUfiMAN.  41 

ity,  was  offered  liim,  and  he  was  asked  to  sign  a  receipt.  "  laintgoing 
to  settle  so."  For  five  years,  until  it  became  the  ruling  thought  of  his 
life,  the  idea  had  been  impressed  upon  his  mind,  that  he  had  been  impri- 
soned wrongfully,  and  would,  therefore,  be  entitled  to  payment,  on  his 
liberation.  This  idea  was  opposed  "  by  the  judgment  and  sense  of  aU 
mankind."  The  court  that  convicted  him,  pronounced  him  guilty,  and 
spoke  the  sense  and  judgment  of  mankind.  But  still  he  remained  uncon- 
vinced. The  keepers  who  flogged  him,  pronounced  his  claim  unjust  and 
unfounded,  and  they  were  exponents  of  the  *'  sense  and  judgment  of  all 
mankind."  But  imprisonment,  bonds  and  stripes,  could  not  remove  the 
one  inflexible  idea.  The  Agent,  the  Keepers,  the  Clerk,  the  spectators, 
and  even  the  Reverend  Chaplain,  laughed  at  the  simplicity  and  absurdity 
of  the  claim  of  the  discharged  convict,  when  he  said,  "  I've  worked  Jive 
years  for  the  State,  and  aint  going  to  settle  so."  Alas  !  little  did  tht-y 
know  that  they  were  deriding  the  delusion  of  a  maniac.  Had  they  been 
wise,  they  would  have  known  that 

"  So  foul  a  sky  clears  not  without  a  storm." 

The  peals  of  their  laughter  were  the  warning  voice  of  Nature,  for  the 
safety  of  the  family  of  Van  Nest. 

Thus  closes  the  second  act  of  the  sad  drama. 

The  maniac  reaches  his  home,  sinks  sullenly  to  his  seat,  and  hour  af- 
ter hour,  relates  to  John  Depuy  the  story  of  his  wrongful  imprisonment, 
and  of  the  cruel  and  inhuman  treatment  which  he  had  suffered,  enquires 
for  the  persons  who  had  caused  him  to  be  unjustly  convicted,  learns  their 
names,  and  goes  about  drooping,  melancholy  and  sad,  dwelling  continu- 
ally upon  his  wrongs,  and  studying  intensely  in  his  bewildered  mind  how 
to  obtain  redress.  Many  passed  him,  marking  his  altered  countenance 
and  carriage,  without  stopping  to  enquire  the  cause.  Doctor  Hermance 
alone  sought  an  explanation :  "  I  met  him  about  the  first  of  December 
last ;  I  thought  his  manner  very  singular  and  strange.  I  enquired  the 
cause.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been  in  the  Prison  for  five  years,  and 
that  he  wasn't  guilty,  and  that  they  would'nt  pay  him.  I  met  him  after- 
wards in  the  street,  again  remarked  his  peculiarities  and  enquired  the 
cause.  He  answered  as  before,  that  he  had  been  in  State  Prison  five 
years  wrongfully,  and  they  wouldn't  pay  him." 

The  one  idea  disturbs  him  in  his  dreams  and  forces  him  from  his  bed  ; 
he  complains  that  he  can  make  no  gain  and  can't  live  so  :  he  dances  to 
his  own  wild  music,  and  encounters  visionary  combatants. 

Time  passes  on  until  February.  He  visits  Mrs.  Godfrey  at  her  house 
in  Sennett.  He  enters  the  house,  deaf,  and  stands  mute.  "  I  gave  him 
a  chair,"  says  Mrs.  Godfrey,  '*  he  sat  down.  I  asked  which  way  he 
was  travelling.     He  wanted  to  know  if  that  was  the  place  where  a  wo- 


42  DEFENCE    OF 

man  had  a  horse  stole,  five  years  before.  I  told  him  it  was.  He  said 
he  had  been  to  Prison  for  stealing  the  horse,  and  didn't  steal  it  neither. 
I  told  him  I  knew  nothing  about  that,  whether  it  was  he,  or  not.  He 
said  he'd  been  to  Prison  for  stealing  a  horse,  and  didn't  steal  it,  and  he 
wanted  a  settlement.  Johnson,  who  was  there,  asked  him  if  he  should 
know  the  horse  if  he  should  see  it.  '  No.'  '  Do  you  want  the  horse  .'* 
*  No.  Are  you  the  man  who  took  me  up  ?  Where  is  the  man  who 
kept  the  tavern  across  the  way  and  helped  catch  me  ?'  *  He  is  gone.* 
I  asked  him  if  he  was  hungry.  He  said,  he  didn't  know  but  he  was. 
I  gave  him  some  cakes,  and  he  sat  and  ate  them." 

Here  were  exhibited  at  once  the  wildness  of  the  maniac,  and  the  imbe- 
cility of  the  demented  man.  His  delusion  was  opposed  to  "  the  sense 
and  judgment  of  all  mankind."  Mrs.  Godfrey  and  Mr.  Johnson  exposed 
its  fallacy.  But  still  the  one  idea  remained,  unconquered  and  uncon- 
querable. The  maniac  who  came  to  demand  pay  for  five  years  unjust 
imprisonment,  was  appeased  with  a  morsel  of  cake. 

He  was  next  seen  at  Mr.  Seward's  ofiice,  a  week  or  ten  days  before 
the  murder.  He  asked  if  that  was  a  'Squire's  office,  and  said  he  wanted 
a  warrant.  Mr.  Parsons,  the  clerk,  says :  "  I  didn't  understand,  until 
he  had  asked  once  or  twice.  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted  a  warrant  for. 
He  said,  for  the  man  who  had  been  getting  him  into  Prison,  and  he  want- 
ed to  get  damages.  I  told  him  the  Justices'  offices  were  up  street,  and 
he  went  away." 

Next  we  find  him  at  the  office  of  Lyman  Paine,  Esq.,  Justice,  on  the 
Saturday  preceding  the  death  of  Van  Nest.  Mr.  Paine  says  :  •*  He  open- 
ed the  door,  came  in  a  few  feet,  and  stood  nearly  a  minute  with  his  head 
down,  so.  He  looked  up  and  said  :  'Sir,  I  want  a  warrant.'  *  What 
for.'  He  stood  a  little  time,  and  then  said  again  :  '  Sir,  I  want  a  war- 
rant.' '  What  do  you  want  a  warrant  for  ?'  He  stood  a  minute,  started 
and  came  up  close  to  me,  and  spoke  very  loud :  'Sir,  I  want  a  warrant. 
I  am  very  deaf  and  can't  hear  very  well.'  I  asked  him  in  a  louder  voice, 
what  he  wanted  a  warrant  for,  '  For  a  man  who  put  me  to  State  Pris- 
on.' '  What  is  your  name  r  '  William  Freeman  ;  and  I  want  a  war- 
rant for  the  man  who  put  me  to  Prison.'  I  said  :  '  If  you've  been  to 
Prison,  you  have  undoubtedly  been  tried  for  some  offence.'  '  I  have  ;  it 
was  for  stealing  a  horse,  but  I  didn't  steal  it.  Pve  been  there  five  years.' 
'  I  asked  who  he  wanted  a  warrant  for.  He  told  some  name — I  think 
it  was  Mr.  Doty."  [You  will  remember,  gentlemen,  that  Mr.  Doty, 
Mr.  Hail,  and  Mrs.  Godfrey,  all  of  Sennett,  and  Jack  Furman,  of  this 
town,  were  the  witnesses  against  him.]  "  I  told  him  if  he  wanted  a 
warrant,  it  must  be  for  perjury — he  must  give  me  the  facts  and  I  would 
j*ee.  He  stood  two  or  three  minutes  and  then  said :  '-S/r,  I  want  a  war- 
rant.*    I  asked  further  information.     He  stood  a  little  while  longer,  took 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  43 

out  a  quarter  of  a  dollar,  threw  it  on  the  table,  and  said  :  *Sir,  I  demand 
a  warrant' — appeared  in  a  passion,  and  soon  after  went  out.  He  return- 
ed in  the  afternoon,  said  he  would  have  a  warrant,  and  gave  the  names 
of  Mr.  Doty  and  Mrs.  Godfrey." 

Mr.  Paine  saw,  in  all  this,  evidence  of  stupidity,  ignorance,  and  mal- 
ice, only,  but  not  of  Insanity.  But,  Gentlemen,  if  he  could  have  looked 
back  to  the  origin  of  the  prisoner's  infatuation,  and  forward  to  the  dread- 
ful catastrophe  on  the  shore  of  the  Owasco  Lake,  as  we  now  see  it,  who 
can  doubt  that  he  would  then  have  pronounced  the  prisoner  a  maniac, 
and  have  granted,  not  the  warrant  he  asked,  but  an  order  for  his  com- 
mitment to  the  County  Jail,  or  to  the  Lunatic  Asylum  } 

Denied  the  process,  to  which  he  thought  himself  entitled,  he  proceed- 
ed a  day  or  two  later  to  the  office  of  James  H.  Bostwick,  Esq.,  another 
Justice.  "  I  saw  him,"  says  this  witness,  "  a  day  or  two  before  the  mur- 
der. He  came,  and  said  he  wanted  a  warrant.  I  asked  for  whom.  He 
replied  ;  ^for  those  that  got  me  to  Prison..  I  was  sent  wrongfallij.  /, 
want  pay.'  I  asked  him  who  the  persons  were.  He  mentioned  a  wid- 
ow and  two  men.  He  mentioned  Mrs.  Godfrey  as  the  widow  woman 
Jack  Furman  and  David  W.  Simpson  as  the  two  men."  (Simpson  was 
the  constable  by  whom  he  was  arrested  the  second  time  for  stealing  the 
horse.)  Mr.  Bostwick  declined  issuing  the  warrant,  and  informed  him 
there  was  no  remedy,  and  again  expounded  to  him  the  "  sense  and 
judgment  of  all  mankind,"  in  opposition  to  his  delusion. 

According  to  the  testimony  of  John  Depuy,  the  prisoner  was  agitated 
by  alternate  hope  and  despair  in  regard  to  his  redress.  At  one  time  he 
told  Depuy,  that  he'd  got  it  all  fixed,  and  wanted  him  to  go  down  to  the 
Justice's  office  and  see  that  he  was  paid  right.  At  another,  he  told  De- 
puy that  the  ••  'Squires  wouldn't  do.nothing  about  it;  that  he  could  get 
no  warrant,  nor  pay,  and  he  couldn't  live  so." 

Then  it  was  that  the  one  idea  completely  overthrew  what  remained  of 
mind,  conscience  and  reason.  If  you  believe  Hersey,  Freeman,  about 
a  week  before  the  murder,  showed  him  several  butcher  knives;  told  him 
he  meant  to  kill  Depuy,  his  brother-in-law,  for  trivial  reasons,  which  he 
assigned,  and  said  that  he  had  found  the  folks  that  put  him  in  Prison, 
and  meant  to  kill  them.  Hersey  says :  "  I  asked  him  who  they  were. 
He  said,  they  were  Mr.  Van  Nest,  and  said  no  more  about  them.  He 
didn't  say  where  they  lived,  and  nothing  about  any  other  man,  woman, 
or  widow."  This  witness  admits  that  he  suppressed  this  fact  on  the 
preliminary  examination. 

If  you  reject  this  testimony,  then  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  ever  had 
any  forethought  of  slaying  Van  Nest.  If  you  receive  it,  it  proves  the 
complete  subversion  of  his  understanding ;  for  John  G.  Van  Nest,  and 
all  the  persons  slain,  resided  not  in  Sennett,  nor  in  Auburn,  but  four 


44  DEFENCE    OP 

miles  south  of  the  latter  place,  and  eight  miles  from  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Godfrey.  The  prisoner,  within  a  week  before  the  crime,  named  to  the' 
magistrates  every  person  who  was  concerned  in  his  previous  conviction. 
We  have  shown  that  neither  John  G.  Van  Nest,  nor  any  of  his  family 
or  kindred,  nor  any  person  connected  with  him,  was,  or  could  have  been, 
a  party,  a  magistrate,  a  witness,  a  constable,  a  sheriff,  a  grand  juror,  attor- 
ney, petit  juror,  or  judge  in  that  prosecution,  or  ever  knew  or  heard  of  the 
prosecution,  or  ever  heard  or  knew  that  any  such  larceny  had  been  com- 
mitted, or  that  such  a  being  as  the  prisoner  existed.  Mrs.  Godfrey  and 
the  witnesses  on  the  former  occasion,  became  known  to  the  remaining 
family  and  relatives  of  Van  Nest,  here  in  court,  for  the  first  time,  during 
these  trials. 

^  You  will  remember  that  Erskine's  test  of  a  delusion  that  takes  away 
,  responsibility  is — that  the  criminal  act  must  be  the  immediate,  unqualijied 
offspring  of  the  delusion.     I  shall  now  prooceed  to  shew,  that  such  is 
the  fact  in  the  present  case. 

The  first  witness  to  whom  the  prisoner  spoke  concerning  the  deeds 
which  he  had  committed  was  George  B.  Parker.  This  was  at  Phenix, 
Oswego  county,  immediately  after  his  arrest,  within  twenty  hours  after 
the  perpetration  of  the  crime.  *'  I  pushed  very  hard  for  the  reasons," 
says  the  witness  ;  "  what  he  had  against  Van  Nest.  *  I  suppose  you  know 
I've  been  in  State  Prison  Jive  years,'  he  replied.  '  I  was  put- there  inno- 
cently I've  been  whipped  and  knocked  and  abused,  and  made  deaf,  and 
there  wont  any  body  pay  me  for  it.' " 

Vanderheyden  arrived  soon  afterwards.  He  says :  *'  I  called  the 
the  prisoner  aside,  and  said  to  him ;  '  Now  we're  alone,  and  you  may  as 
well  tell  me  how  you  came  to  commit  this.'  He  says  to  me :  '  You  know 
there  is  no  law  for  me.'  I  asked  him  what  he  meant  by  that  *  no  law.' 
He  said,  'they  ought  to  pay  me."* 

Ethan  A.  Warden  followed  him  into  his  cell  in  the  jail,  and  asked 
him,  •'  When  you  started  from  home  what  did  you  go  up  there  for  ? — 
'I  must  go.'  Why  must  you  go  .'  '/  must  begin  my  work.'  What  made 
you  do  it  ?  '  They  brought  me  up  so.'  Who  brought  you  up  so  ?  *  The 
State.'  They  didn't  tell  you  to  kill,  did  they  ?  'Don't  know — won't  pay 
me.'  Did  you  know  these  folks  before  you  went  to  Prison  .'  *  No.' — 
Was  you  there  a  few  days  before  to  get  work  .'  «  Yes.*  Did  they  say 
anything  to  offend  you  or  make  you  angry?  'No.'  What  made  you 
kill  them  ;  what  did  you  do  it  for  ?  '  I  must  begiti  my  work.'  Didn't 
you  expect  to  be  killed  .'  *  Didn't  know  but  I  should.'  If  you  expected 
•  to  be  killed  what  made  you  go ;  did  you  go  to  get  money  .'  '  No.'  Did 
you  expect  to  get  money  ?  *  No.'  Did  you  intend  to  get  the  horse  ^ — 
'  No.'  How  did  you  come  to  take  him .'  '  Broke  my  things,  (meaning 
knives) — hand  was  cut — came  into  my  mind — take  the  horse — go — and — 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  45 

get  so — could  do  mere  work.*  If  you  had  not  broke  your  things,  what 
would  you  have  done  ?  *  Kept  to  work.'  Did  you  mean  to  keep  right 
on  ?  '  /  meant  to  keep  to  work.'  Would  you  have  killed  me  if  you  had 
met  me  ?  *  Spose  I  should.*  What  made  you  begin  at  that  house  ? — 
'  Stopped  two  or  three  jjlaces,  thought  it  wasn't  far  out  enough  to  begin.* 
Are  you  not  sorry  you  killed  so  many  ?  *  Don't  think  any  thing  about 
it.* " 

The  prisoner  has  invariably  given  similar  answers  to  every  person 
who  has  asked  him  the  motive  for  his  crime. 

Warren  T.  Worden,  Esq.,  says,  '*  I  asked  him  why  he  took  the 
horse  ?  He  answered,  *My  hand  ivas  hurt,  and  I  couldn't  Icill  any  more.* 
I  asked  him  why  he  killed  them  ?  and  he  answered,  'Why  did  they  send 
me  to  State  Prison  when  I  wasn't  guilty.'  And  in  making  this  reply  he 
trembled,  and  I  thought  he  was  going  to  weep.  I  told  him  they  would 
hang  him  now  ;  he  showed  no  feeling." 

Dr.  FosGATE  says  that  Dr.  Hurd  asked  him  what  he  killed  those  folks 
for  ?     He  replied,  "  They  put  me  in  Prison." 

John  R.  Hopkins  says,  "  I  turned  his  attention  to  the  idea  of  pay— if 
he  had  got  his  pay  for  his  time  in  prison  ?  That  question  raised  him  up 
and  he  looked  comparatively  intelligent,  and  brightened  up  his  whole 
countenance.  He  said  *  No.'  Who  ought  to  pay  you  ?  *All  of  them.* 
Ought  I .'  He  looked  up  with  a  flash  of  intelligence,  said  nothing,  but 
looked  intently  at  me,  and  the  answer  was  conveyed  by  the  look,  I  ask- 
ed if  this  man,  (pointing  to  Hotchkiss)  ought  to  pay  him  .'  He  looked 
at  him,  as  at  me,  and  said,  '  Do  what's  right,'  or  *  we'll  do  what's  right.' 
We  then  spoke  about  his  trial,  and  he  was  stupid  and  dull  again." 

The  Rev.  J.  M.  Austin,  says :  "  I  put  questions  to  find  his  motive 
for  killing  that  family.  His  answers  were  very  broken  and  incoherent, 
but  invariably  referred  to  his  being  in  prison  innocently.  Had  the  per- 
sons you  killed,  anything  to  do  with  putting  you  into  prison  .'  *  No.' 
Did  you  know  their  names  ?  '  No.'  Why  did  you  kill  that  particular 
family  ?  No  direct  answer  but  something  about  being  put  in  prison 
wrongfully.  Do  you  think  it  right  to  kill  people  who  had  no  hand  in 
putting  you  in  prison  ?  He  gave  an  incoherent  reply.  Igathered,  '  shall 
do  something  to  get  my  pay.'  How  much  pay  ought  you  to  have  ? 
*  Don't  know.'  Was  it  right  to  kill  those  innocent  persons  for  what  had 
been  done  by  others  ?  •  They  put  me  in  prison.'  Who  did — The  Van 
Nest  family  ?  *  No.'  Why  then  did  you  kill  them  ?  Did  you  think  it 
right  to  kill  that  innocent  child  ?  I  understood  from  his  gestures  in  reply, 
that  he  was  in  a  labyrinth,  from  which  he  was  incapable  of  extricating 
himself.  How  did  you  happen  to  go  that  particular  night  ?  •  The  time 
had  come.'  Why  did  you  enter  that  particular  house  ?  *  I  went  along 
out  and  thought  I  might  begin  there*    I  asked  if  he  ever  called  on  Mrs. 


46  DEFENCE    OF 

Godfrey.  He  said,  *  I  went  to  Mrs.  Godfrey  to  get  pay,  and  she  wouldn't 
pay  me.  I  went  to  Esquires  Bostwick  and  Paine  and  they  wouldn't  dcr 
nothing  about  it" 

Mr.  Ira  Curtis,  says  :  "  I  asked  him  how  he  came  up  there.  '  I  went 
up  south  a  piece.'  How  far  ?  '  Stopped  at  the  house  beyond  there.' 
What  for  ?  '  To  get  a  drink  of  water.'  What  did  you  go  into  Van 
Nest's  house  for  ?  '  Don't  know.'  Did  you  go  in  to  murder  or  kill 
them?  'Don't  know.'  Was  it  for  money  ?  '  Didn't  know  as  they  had  any.' 
Did  you  kill  the  child  ?  '  They  said  I  killed  one,  but  I  didn't.  What 
did  you  kill  them  for  ?  '  You  know  I  had  my  work  to  do,'  Had  you 
anything  against  these  people  ?  'Don't  know.'  Why  didn't  you  com- 
mence at  the  other  place  .'  '  Thought  it  wasn't  time  yet.'  He  said  they 
wouldn't  pay  him.     He  had  been  imprisoned  and  they  wouldn't  pay  him.'  " 

Dr.  Hermance  says :  *'  Doctor  Pitney  asked  him  how  he  happened 
to  go  up."  ♦  It  rained  and  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good  time '  Why 
did  you  go  to  Van  Nest's,  and  not  to  some  other  family  ,'  No  answer. 
Why  didn't  you  come  and  kill  me  .'  He  smiled  but  gave  no  answer. 
Don't  you  think  you  ought  to  be  hung  for  killing  Van  Nest  and  his  fam- 
ily ?     The  same  question  was  repeated  authoritatively,  and  he  replied  : 

•  Sent  to  prison  for  nothing — ought  I  to  be  hung?'  Suppose  you  had 
found  some  other  person,  would  you  have  killed  any  other  as  well  as  Van 
Nest  ?  '  Yes.'  I  asked  why  did  you  kill  Van  Nest  and  his  family  ? 
'  For  that  horse.'  What  do  you  mean  by  killing  'for  that  horse  ?'  '  They 
sent  me  to  prison  and  they  won't  pay  me.'  Had  Van  Nest  anything  to  do 
with  sending  you  to  prison  ?     *  No.'  " 

Dr.  Briggs  says :  '*  When  I  repeated  the  question,  why  did  you 
kill  Van  Nest  ?  he  replied,  '  Why  was  I  put  in  prison  five  years  T  " 

William  P.  Smith,  asked  :  "  Why  did  you  kill  those  people  ?  *  I'va 
been  to  prison  wrongfully  five  years.     They  wouldn't  pay  me     Who  .' 

*  The  people,  so  I  thought  I'd  kill  somebody.'  Did  you  mean  to  kill  one, 
more  than  another?     'No'    Why  did  you  go  so  far  out  of  town? 

*  Stopped  at  one  place  this  side;  wouldn't  go  in — couldn't  see  to  fight,  'twas 
dark,  looked  up  street,  saw  a  light  in  next  house,  thought  I'd  go  there, 
could  see  to  fight.'  Don't  you  know  you've  done  wrong  ?  *  No.^ 
Don't  you  think  'twas  wrong  to  kill  the  child  ?  After  some  hesitation, 
he  said,  '  Well — that  looks  kind  o'h-a-r-d.'  Why  did  you  think  it  was 
right  ?  '  I've  been  in  prison  five  years  for  stealing  a  horse,  and  I  didn't 
do  it;  and  the  people,  wont  pay  me — made  up  my  mind,  ought  to  kill 
somebody.'  Are  you  not  sorry  ?  '  No.'  How  much  pay  do  you  want  ? 
'  Don't  know — good  deal.'  If  I  count  you  out  a  hundred  dollars,  would 
that  be  enough  ?     He  thought  it  wouldn't.     How  much  would  be  right  ? 

•  Don't  know.'  He  brightened  up,  and  finally  sziid  he  thought  •  about  a 
Hiousand  dollars  uoidd  be  about  right.'  " 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  47 

It  would  be  tedious  to  gather  all  the  evidence  of  similar  import.  Let 
it  suffice,  that  the  witnesses  who  have  conversed  with  the  prisoner,  as 
well  those  for  the  people  as  those  for  him,  concur  fully  in  the  same  state- 
ment of  facts,  as  to  his  reasons  and  motives  for  the  murders.  We  have 
thus  not  merely  established  the  existence  of  an  insane  delusion,  but  have 
traced  directly  to  that  overpowering  delusion,  the  crimes  which  the  pri- 
soner has  committed. 

How  powerful  that  delusion  must  have  been,  may  be  inferred  from 
the  fact  that  the  prisoner,  when  disabled,  desisted  from  his  work,  and 
made  his  retreat  to  his  friends  in  Oswego  county,  not  to  escape  from 
punishment  for  the  murders  ;  but,  as  he  told  Mr.  E.  A.  Warden,  to  wait 
till  his  wounded  hand  should  be  restored,  that  he  might  resume  his 
dreadful  butchery;  and,  as  he  told  Dr.  Bigelow,  because  he  couldn't 
"  handle  his  hand."  The  intenseness  of  this  delusion  exceeds  that  under 
which  Hatfield  assailed  the  King  ;  that  which  compelled  Henriettk 
Corkier  to  dissever  the  head  of  the  child  entrusted  to  her  care ;  and 
that  of  Rabello,  the  Portuguese,  who  cut  to  pieces  with  his  axe,  the 
child  who  trod  upon  his  fe§t. 

The  next  feature  in  the  cause,  which  will  claim  your  attention.  Gen- 
tlemen of  the  Jury,  is  the  manner  and  circumstances  or  the  act  it- 
self. 

In  Ray's  Medical  Jurisprudence,  at  page  224,  are  given  several  tests 
by  which  to  distinguish  between  the  homicidal  Maniac  and  the  Murder- 
er. 

We  shall  best  consider  the  present  case  by  comparing  it  with  those 
tests : 

I.  "  There  is  the  irresistible  motiveless  impulse  to  destroy  life."  Never 
was  homicide  more  motiveless,  or  the  impulse  more  completely  irresisti- 
ble, than  in  the  present  case,  as  we  have  learned  from  the  testimony  al- 
ready cited. 

II.  "  In  nearly  all  cases  the  criminal  act  has  been  preceded,  either  by 
some  well  marked  disturbance  of  the  health,  or  by  an  irritable,  gloomy, 
dejected,  or  melancholy  state  ;  in  short,  by  many  of  the  symptoms  of  the 
incubation  of  mania."     How  truly  does  this  language  describe  the  con- 

'  dilion  of  the  prisoner  during  the  brief  period  of  his  enlargement  ! 

III.  "  The  impulse  to  destroy  is  powerfully  excited  by  the  sight  of 
murderous  weapons — by  favorable  opportunities  of  accomplishing  the 
act — by  contradiction,  disgust,  or  some  other  equally  trivial  and  even  im- 
aginary circumstance." 

While  we  learn  from  Hersey's  testimony,  that  the  prisoner  kept  a 
store  of  knives  fit  for  such  a  deed,  we  find  in  the  denial  of  his  demands 
for  settlement,  for  pay,  and  for  process,  by  Mrs.  Godfrey,  and  the  ma- 
5I  strates,  the  contradiction  and  causes  of  disgust  here  described. 


48  DEFENCE    OP 

IV.  *^  The  victims  of  the  homicidal  monomaniac  are  either  entirely  un- 
known or  indifferent  to  him,  or  they  are  amongst  his  most  loved  and  cher- 
ished objects." 

Freeman  passed  by  his  supposed  oppressors  and  persecutors,  and  fell 
upon  a  family  absolutely  indifferent,  and  almost  unknown  to  him,  while 
he  reserved  the  final  stroke  for  his  nearest  and  best  friend,  and  brother- 
in-law. 

V.  "The  monomaniac  sometimes  diligently  conceals  and  sometimes 
avows  his  purpose,  and  forms  schemes  for  putting  it  into  execution,  tes- 
tifying no  sentiment  of  grief." 

The  prisoner  concealed  his  purpose  from  all  but  Hersey.  He  pur- 
chased the  knife  which  he  used,  in  open  day,  at  a  blacksmith's  shop,  in 
the  presence  of  persons  to  whom  he  was  well  known,  and  ground  it  to 
its  double  edge  before  unsuspecting  witnesses,  as  coolly  and  delibe- 
rately as  if  it  were  to  be  employed  in  the  shambles.  He  applied  at 
another  black-smith's  shop  where  he  was  equally  well  known,  to  have 
another  instrument  made.  He  shaped  the  pattern  in  a  carpenter's  shop, 
carried  it  to  the  smith,  disagreed  about  the  price,  and  left  the  pattern, 
upon  the  forge,  in  open  sight,  never  thinking  to  reclaim  it,  and  it 
lay  there  until  it  was  taken  by  the  smith  before  the  coroner's  inquest , 
as  an  evidence  of  his  design.  So  strange  was  his  conduct,  and  so  mys- 
terious the  form  of  the  knife  which  he  required,  that  Morris,  the  smith, 
suspected  him,  and  told  him  that  he  was  going  to  kill  somebody  ;  to  which 
he  answered  with  the  nonchalance  of  the  butcher,  "  that's  nothing  to 
you  if  you  get  your  pay  for  the  knife"  On  the  two  days  immediately 
preceding  the  murder,  he  is  found  sharpening  and  adjusting  his  knives  at 
a  turner's  shop,  next  door  to  his  own  dwelling,  in  the  presence  of  per- 
sons to  whom  he  is  well  known,  manifesting  no  apprehension,  and  af- 
fecting no  concealment. 

The  trivial  concerns  of  his  finance  and  occupation  are  as  carefully 
attended  to,  as  if  the  murder  he  was  contemplating  had  been  an  ordinary 
and  lawful  transaction.  Hyatt  demands  three  shillings  for  the  knife. 
The  prisoner  cheapens  until  the  price  is  reduced  to  eighteen  pence,  with 
the  further  advantages  that  it  should  be  sharpened,  and  fitted  to  a  han- 
dle. Hyatt  demands  six  pence  for  putting  a  rivet  into  his  knife. 
He  compromises,  and  agrees  to  divide  the  labor  and  pay  half  the  price. 
He  deliberately  takes  out  his  wallet  and  lays  down  three  cents  for  Simp- 
son the  turner,  for  the  use  of  the  grindstone.  On  the  very  day  of  the 
murder,  he  begs  some  grease  at  the  Soap  Factory  to  soften  his  shoes, 
and  tells  Aaron  Demun  that  he  is  going  into  the  country  to  live  in  peace. 
At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  buys  soap  at  the  merchant's  for  Ma- 
rt Ann  Newark,  the  poor  woman  at  whose  house  he  lived.  He  then 
goes  cautiously  to  his  room,  takes  the  knives  from  the  place  of  their 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  49 

concealment  under  his  bed,  throws  them  out  of  the  window,  to  avoid  ex- 
posure to  her  observation,  and  when  the  night  has  come,  and  the  bells 
are  ringing  for  church,  and  all  is  ready,  he  stops  to  ask  the  woman  wheth- 
er there  is  any  chore  to  be  done.  She  tells  him,  none,  but  to  fill  the  tub 
with  snow.  He  does  it,  as  carefully  as  if  there  were  no  commotion  in 
liis  mind,  and  then  sallies  forth,  takes  up  his  instruments,  and  proceeds 
on  his  errand  of  death.  He  reconnoiters  the  house  on  the  north  of  Van 
Nest's,  Van  Nest's  house,  and  Brooks'  house  on  the  south,  and  finally 
decides  upon  the  middle  one  as  the  place  of  assault.  It  does  not  affect 
his  purpose  that  he  meets  Mr.  Cox  and  Mr.  Patten,  under  a  broad  bright 
moonlight.  He  waits  his  opportunity,  until  Williamson,  the  visitor,  has 
departed,  and  Van  Arsdale,  the  laboring  man,  has  retired  to  rest.  With 
an  energy  and  boldness  that  no  sane  man,  with  such  a  purpose,  could 
possess,  he  mortally  stabs  four  persons,  and  dangerously  wounds  a  fifth, 
in  the  incredibly  shorP- space  of  five  minutes.  Disabled,  and  therefore 
desisting  from  further  destruction,  he  enters  the  stable,  takes  the  first 
horse  he  finds,  mounts  him  without  a  saddle,  and  guiding  him  by  a  hal- 
ter, dashes  towards  the  town.  He  overtakes  and  passes  Williamson,  the 
visitor,  within  the  distance  of  three-fourths  of  a  mile  from  the  house 
which  he  had  left  in  supposed  security.  Pressing  on,  the  jaded  beast, 
worn  out  with  age,  stumbles  and  brings  him  to  the  ground.  He  plunges 
his  knife  into  the  breast  of  the  horse,  abandons  him,  scours  forward 
through  the  town,  across  the  bridge  and  on  the  middle  road  to  Burring- 
ton's ;  there  seizes  another  horse,  mounts  him,  and  urges  forward,  until 
he  arrives  among  his  relations,  the  Depuys,  at  Schroeppel,  thirty  miles 
distant.  They, 'suspecting  him  to  have  stolen  the  horse,  refuse  to  enter- 
tain him.  He  proceeds  to  the  adjoining  village,  rests  from  his  flight, 
offers  the  horse  for  sale,  and  when  his  title  to  the  horse  is  questioned, 
announces  his  true  name  and  residence,  and  refers  to  the  Depuys,  who 
had  just  cast  him  off,  forj)roof  of  his  good  character  and  conduct.  When 
arrested  and  charged  with  the  murder,  he  denies  the  act. 

Now  the  SIXTH  test  given  by  Ray  is,  that  "  while  most  maniacs  having 
gratified  their  propensity  to  kill,  voluntarily  confess  the  act,,  and  quietly 
give  themselves  up  to  the  proper  authorities,  a  very  few  only,  and  those 
to  an  intelligent  observer  show  the  strongest  indications  of  insanity,  fly, 
and  persist  in  denying  the  act." 

Vn.  "  Murder  is  never  criminally  committed  without  some  motive  ad- 
equate to  the  purpose  in  the  mind  that  is  actuated  by  it,  while  the  insane 
man  commits  the  crime  without  any  motive  whatever,  strictly  deserving 
the  name." 

VHI.  "  The  criminal  never  sheds  more  blood  than  is  necessary  for 
he  attainment  of  his  object.  The  monomaniac  often  sacrifices  all  within 
his  reach,  to  the  cravings  of  his  murderous  propensity." 


ft0  DEFENCE    OF 

IX.  The  criminal  either  denies  or  confesses  his  guilt ;  if  the  latter,  he 
sues  for  mercy,  or  glories  in  his  crimes.     On  the  contrary,  the  maniac ' 
after  gratifying  his  bloody  desires,  testifies  neither  remorse,  repentance, 
nor  satisfaction." 

X.  "  The  criminal  has  accomplices,  the  maniac  has  none.** 

XI.  "  The  murderer  never  conceives  a  design  to  murder  without  pro- 
jecting a  plan  for  concealing  his  victim,  effecting  his  escape,  and  baffling 
pursuit.  The  maniac  prepares  the  means  of  committing  the  crime  with 
calmness  and  deliberation,  but  never  dreams  of  the  necessity  of  conceal- 
ing it  when  done,  or  of  escape,  until  his  victim  lies  at  his  feet." 

Dr.  BiGELOw  and  others  state  that  the  prisoner  told  them,  as  obviously 
was  the  case,  that  he  sought  no  plunder,  that  he  thought  not  of  escape 
or  flight,  until  his  things  were  broken,  and  his  hand  was  cut,  so  that  he 
could  not  continue  his  work.  He  seized  the  nearest  and  the  most  worth- 
less horse  in  the  stable,  leaving,two  fleet  animals  remaining  in  their  stalls. 
He  thought  only  of  taking  Burrington's  horse,  when  the  first  failed  :  all 
he  cared  for  was  to  get  out  of  the  county,  there  to  rest,  until  his  hand 
was  cured,  so  that  he  could  come  back  and  do  more  work.  He  rested 
from  flight  within  thirty  miles  from  the  scene  of  his  crimes,  and  in  sell- 
ing his  horse,  was  depriving  himself  of  the  only  means  of  making  his 
escape  successful.  When  the  person  of  Van  Nest  was  examined,  his 
watch,  pocket-book,  money,  and  trinkets  were  found  all  undisturbed. 
Not  an  article  in  the  house  had  been  removed,  and  when  the  prisoner 
was  searched  upon  his  arrest,  there  was  found  in  his  pockets  nothing 
but  one  copper  coin,  the  one  hundredth  part  of  a  dollar. 

Without  further  detail,  the  parallel  between  the  prisoner  and  the  tests 
of  madness  established  by  Medical  Jurisprudence,  is  complete. 

It  remains.  Gentlemen,  to  conclude  the  demonstration  of  the  prisoner's 
insanity,  by  referring  to  the  testimony  of  the  witnesses  who  have  given 
their  opinions  on  that  question.  Cornelius  Van  Arsdale  and  Helen 
Holmes,  the  survivors  of  the  dreadful  scene  at  Van  Nest's  house,  did  not 
think  the  prisoner  insane.  The  latter  had  only  seen  him  for  a  moment, 
during  the  previous  week,  when  he  called  there  and  asked  for  work. — 
The  former  had  never  seen  him  before  that  fatal  night.  Both  saw  him 
there,  only  for  a  moment,  and  under  circumstances  exhibiting  him  as  a 
ruthless  murderer. 

Williamson  thinks  he  was  not  insane,  but  he  saw  the  prisoner  only 
when  he  swept  past  him,  fleeing  from  his  crime. 

James  Amos,  Alonzo  Taylor,  George  Burrington,  and  George  B. 

Parker,  say  they  read  no  indications  of  insanity  in  his  conduct  when 

arrested ;  but  neither  of  them  ever  saw  him  before,  or  has  seen  him  since. 

BoBERT  Simpson,  the  turner,  George  W.  Hyatt,  and  Joseph  Morris, 

the  blacksmiths,  did  not  suspect  him  to  be  insane,  when  he  purchased 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  51 

and  sharpened  his  knives.  Neither  of  them  ever  knew  him  before  or  has 
known  him  since. 

Nathaniel  Lynch,  though  he  furnishes  abundant  evidence  of  the 
prisoner's  insanity,  is  himself  unconvinced. 

Aaron  Demun,  a  colored  man,  does  not  think  him  insane,  but  stands 
alone,  of  all  who  knew  him  in  his  youth. 

Israel  G.  Wood  and  Stephen  S.  Austin'  do  not  think  him  insane. 
They  were  his  jailers  six  years  ago,  but  they  have  not  examined  him 
since  his  arrest. 

Vanderheyden  and  Monroe  think  him  sane,  but  each  testifies  under 
feelings  which  disqualify  him  for  impartiality. 

Jonas  Brown  thinks  him  not  insane,  but  never  saw  him,  except  when 
he  was  buying  a  pound  of  soap  at  his  store. 

John  P.  Hujlbert,  and  Benjamin  F.  Hall,  had  brief  conversations 
with  him  in  the  jail,  after  his  arrest,  but  made  no  examination  concern- 
ing his  delusion. 

Lewis  Markham  and  Daniel  Andrus  think  him  not  insane,  but  they 
have  made  no  examination  of  the  subject ;  while  both  give  evidence  that 
he  was  once  as-  bright,  active,  and  cheerful,  as  he  is  now  stupid,  sense- 
less, and  imbecile. 

Benj.  Vankeuren,  Aretas  a.  Sarin,  Silas  E.  Baker  and,  James  E. 
Tyler,  all  keepers  in  the  State  Prison,  and  Alonzo  Wood,  the  Chap- 
lain, did  not  suspect  him  of  insanity  in  the  State  Prison.  Their  conduct 
towards  him  while  there,  proves  their  sincerity;  but  his  history  under 
their  treatment  will  enable  you  to  correct  their  erroneous  judgments.  It 
was  their  business,  not  to  detect  and  cure  insanity,  but  to  prescribe  his 
daily  task,  and  to  compel  him  by  stripes  to  perform  it  in  silence. 

Michael  S.  Myers,  the  former  District  Attorney,  who  prosecuted  the 
prisoner  lor  stealing  the  horse,  looks  at  him  now,  and  can  see  no  change 
in  his  personal  appearance ;  but  he  has  never  thought  the  subject  wor- 
thy of  an  examination,  and  has  not  in  six  years  spoken  with,  or  thought 
of  the  accused. 

Lyman  Paine  and  James  H.  Bostwick,  to  whom  he  applied  for  pro- 
cess, continue  now  as  well  convinced  of  the  prisoner's  sanity,  as  they 
were  when  he  applied  to  them  for  warrants,  which  it  was  absurd  for  him 
to  ask.  Neither  of  them  has  examined  him  since  his  arrest,  or  stopped 
to  compare  his  conduct  in  the  murder  with  his  application  for  a  warranty 
or  with  the  strange  delusion  which  brought  him  before  them. 

Such  and  so  feeble  is  the  testimony  as  to  the  prisoner's  sanity,  given 
by  others  than  the  medical  witnesses.  Nor  is  the  testimony  of  the  medi- 
cal witnesses  on  the  part  of  the  People  entitled  to  more  respect. 

Dr.  GiLMORE  pronounces  a  confident  opinion  that  the  prisoner  is  sane  ; 
but  the  witness  is  without  experience,  or  any  considerable  learning  on 


59  DEFENCE    OF 

that  subject,  and  his  opinion  is  grounded  upon  the  fact,  that  the  accused 
had  intellect  enough  to  prepare  for  his  crime,  and  sense  enough  to  make 
his  escape,  in  the  manner  so  often  described.  I  read  to  the  Doctor  the 
accounts  of  several  cases  in  Bedlam,  and  without  exception  be  pronounced 
the  sufferers,  sane  criminals. 

Dr.  Hyde  visited  the  prisoner  twice  in  his  cell,  perhaps  thirty  minutes 
each  time,  and  as  the  result  of  those  visits,  says  he  was  rather  of  the 
opinion  that  he  was  sane.  Dr.  Hyde  expressly  disavows  any  learning 
or  experience  on  the  subject  of  insanity,  and  does  not  give  the  details  of 
his  examination. 

Dr.  David  Dimon  visited  the  prisoner  several  times  in  jail,  but  could 
not  discover  anything  that  he  could  call  insanity.  He  thinks  there  can 
he  no  insane  delusion  in  this  case,  because  he  thinks  that  an  insane  de- 
lusion is  the  thorough  conviction  of  the  reality  of  a  thing,  which  is  op- 
posed by  the  evidence  of  the  sufferer's  senses.  The  Doctor  claims  nei- 
ther study  nor  experience ;  pronounces  the  prisoner  to  be  of  a  grade  of 
intellect  rather  small  for  a  negro  ;  thinks  he  has  not  as  much  intellect  as 
a  child  of  fourteen  years  of  age,  and  in  regard  to  knowledge,  would  com- 
pare him  with  a  child  two  or  three  years  old,  who  knows  his  A.  B.  C. 
but  cannot  count  twenty- eight.  Those  who  seek  the  extreme  vengeance 
of  the  law,  will,  if  successful,  need  all  the  consolation  to  be  derived  from 
the  sanity  of  the  accused,  if,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three,  he  be  thus  im- 
becile in  mind  and  barren  in  knowledge. 

Dr.  Jedediah  Darrow  has  read  nothing  on  the  subject  of  insanity  for 
forty  years,  and  has  never  had  any  experience.  He  declares  that  his 
conclusion  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  a  professional  opinion.  He  talked 
with  the  prisoner  once  in  jail,  to  ascertain  his  sanity  and  thought  it  im- 
portant to  avoid  all  allusion  to  the  crimes  he  had  committed,  their  motives 
causes,  and  circumstances.  He  now  thinks  that  it  would  have  been  wise, 
where  monomania  was  suspected,  to  examine  into  the  alleged  delusion. 
He  contents  himself  with  saying,  he  did  not  discover  insanity. 

Dr.  Joseph  L.  Clary  visited  the  prisoner  in  jail  :  cannot  give  a  decided 
opinion ;  his  prevaf/mg  impression  is,  that  the  prisoner  is  not  insane,  but 
he  has  not  had  opportunities  enough  to  form  a  correct  opinion.  He  has 
never  seen  a  case  of  Dementia,  and  knows  it  only  from  definitions  in 
books,  which  he  has  never  tested. 

Dr.  BiGELow,  Physician  to  the  Prison,  discovered  nothing  in  his  ex- 
aminations which  led  him  to  suspect  insanity.  The  Doctor  has  a  salary 
of  Five  Hundred  Dollars  per  annum ;  his  chief  labor  in  regard  to  insanity 
is  to  detect  counterfeits  in  the  Prison;  and  although  he  admits  that  the 
prisoner  has  answered  him  freely,  and  unsuspectingly,  and  fully,  he  ac- 
counts for  the  condition  of  his  mind,  by  saying  that  he  regards  him  *'  as  an 
ignorant,  dull,  stupid,  degraded,  debased  and  morose,  but  not  insane  person.' 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  53 

Dr.  Sylvester  Willard,  without  particular  experience  or  learning  in 
this  branch,  concurs  in  these  opinions. 

Dr.  Thomas  C.  Spencer,  Professor  in  the  Medical  College  at  Geneva, 
brings  up  the  rear  of  the  People's  witnesses.  I  complain  of  his  testimo- 
ny, that  it  was  covered  by  a  masked  battery.  The  District  Attorney 
opened  the  cause  with  denunciations  of  scientific  men,  said  that  too 
much  learning  made  men  mad,  and  warned  you  therefore  against  the  edu- 
cated men  who  might  testify  for  the  prisoner.  I  thought  at  the  time  that 
these  were  extraordinary  opinions.     I  had  read 

"A  little  learning  ia  a  dangerous  thing, 
Drink  deep  or  taste  not  the  Pierian  Spring : 
These  shallow  draughts  intoxicate  the  brain, 
But  drinking  largely  sobers  us  again." 

What  was  my  surprise  to  find  that  all  these  denunciations  against 
learning  and  experience,  made  by  the  Counsel  for  the  People,  were  only 
a  cover  for  Dr.  Spencer. 

He  heralds  himself  as  accustomed  to  teach,  and  informs  u^  that  he  has 
visited  the  principal  Hospitals  for  the  Insane  in  London,  Paris,  and  other 
European  capitals.  How  unfortunate  it  was  that  on  his  cross-examina- 
tion, he  could  not  give  the  name  or  location  of  any  Asylum  in  either  of 
those  cities  !  Even  the  names  and  locations  of  the  "  Charenton  '*  and 
"  Bicetre  "  had  escaped  his  memory. 

But  it  is  no  matter.  The  doctor  overwhelms  us  with  learning,  uni- 
versal and  incomprehensible.  Here  is  his  map*  of  the  mental  faculties, 
in  which  twenty-eight  separate  powers  of  mind  are  described  in  odd  and 
even  numbers. 

The  arrows  show  the  course  of  ideas  through  the  mind.  They  b^in 
with  the  motives  in  the  region  of  the  highest  odd  numbers  in  the  south- 
west corner  of  the  mind,  marked  A-,  and  go  perpendicularly  north- 
ward, through  Thirst  and  Hunger  to  Sensation,  marked  B. ;  then  turn  to 
the  right,  and  go  eastward,  through  Conception,  to  Attention,  marked  C, 
and  then  descend  southward,  through  Perception,  Memory,  Understand- 
ing, Comparison,  Combination,  Reason,  Invention,  and  Judgment,  wheel 
to  the  left  under  the  Will,  marked  D.,  and  pass  through  Conscience,  and 
then  to  v.,  the  unascertained  center  of  Sensation,  Volition,  and  Will. 
This  is  the  natural  turnpike  road  for  the  ideas  when  we  are  awake  and 
sane.  But  here  is  an  open  shun-pike  X.  Y.  Z.,  on  which  Ideas,  when 
we  are  asleep  or  insane,  start  off  and  pass  by  Conscience,  and  so  avoid 
paying  toll  to  that  inflexible  gate-keeper.  Now  all  this  is  very  well, 
but  I  call  on  the  doctor  to  show  how  the  fugitive  idea  reached  the  will 
at  D.,  after  going  to  the  end  of  the  shun-pike.  It  appeared  there  was 
no  other  way  but  to  dart  back  again,  over  the  shun-pike,  or  else  to  go 
cringing,  at  last  through  the  iron  gate  of  Conscience. 

*See  next  paga. 


i4  DEFENCE    OP 

SPENCER'S  INTELLECTUAL  CHART. 

THE  BRAIN,  LITTLE  BRAIN,  SPINAL  MARROW.  AND  NERVES. 

Are  the  Instruments  or  Media  connecting  the  Mind  with  Material  Things, 

and  are  the  seat  of  Disease  in  Insanity. 

THREE  CLASSES— THIRTY-SIX  FACULTIES. 
I.  Involuntary  Faculties,  II.  Intermediate  III.  Voluntary 

Actions  or  Feelings  of  Mind.  Faculties.  Faculties. 


t|B 


1  Sensation.       -+•     31  Conception.      -+ 


2  Attention. 


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nger. 


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5  Thirst. 


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9 
11 
13 
15 
17 
19 
21 
23 
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27 


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32  Imagination. 


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X      H- 

WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  94 

EXPLANATIONS  OF  THE  FOREGOING  CHART. 


7  Love  of  society. 

8  Understanding. 

9    "        children. 

10  Comparison. 

11     "        money. 

12  Combination. 

13    "        combat. 

14  Reason. 

15    "        fame. 

16  Invention. 

17    "        Nature's  laws. 

IS  Judgment. 

19    "        Divine  things. 

20  Sense  of  justice. 

21  Revenge,      \ 

22  Pleasure  in  right. 

23  Anger,          f  And  other  passions, 

,  propen- 

24  Horror  of  wrong  acts. 

as  Joy,  Hope,    \          sities  and  molircs. 

26  Intention,  co-ordination. 

27  Fear.             ) 

2S  Other  volitions,  mental  and  moral. 

V.  Unascertained  centre  ofThought,  Sensation, 

V.  A.  B.  C.  D.  Unio.i  of  all  the  Mental  Facul 

and  Volition. 

ties,  as  if  by  Electric  Wires,  as  one  whole 

X.  T.  Z.  Dreaming  or  Insane  road  of 

Thought 

around  Conscience  and  Will. 

Then  there  was  another  difficulty.  The  doctor  forgot  the  most  impor- 
tant point  on  his  own  map,  and  could  not  tell  from  memory,  where  he 
had  located  **  the  unascertained  centra." 

The  doctor  pronounces  the  Prisoner  sane  because  he  has  the  chief  in- 
tellectual faculties,  sensation,  Conception,  Attention,  Imagination,  and 
Association.  Now  here  is  a  delicate  piece  of  wooden  cutlery,  fabricated 
by  an  inmate  of  the  Lunatic  Asylum  at  Utica,  who  was  acquitted  of  mur- 
der on  the  ground  of  insanity.  He  who  fabricated  it  evinced  in  the  man- 
ufacture. Conception,  Perception,  Memory,  Comparison,  Attention, 
Adaptation,  Co-ordination,  Kindness,  Gratitude,  Mechanical  Skill,  In- 
vention, and  Pride.  It  is  well  for  him  that  Dr.  Spincee  did  not  testify 
on  his  trial. 

Opposed  to  these  vague  and  unsatisfactory  opinions  is  the  evidence  of 
Sally  Freeman,  the  prisoner's  mother,  who  knew  him  better  than  any 
other  one  ;  of  John  Depuy,  his  brother-in-law  and  intimate  friend  ;  of 
Ethan  A.  Warden,  his  employer  in  early  youth ;  of  Deborah  Depuy, 
his  associate  in  happier  days  :  of  Adam  Gray,  who  knew  him  in  child- 
hood, and  sheltered  him  on  \^is  discharge  from  the  State  Prison ;  of  Ira 
Curtis,  in  whose  family  he  resided  seven  years  ago ;  of  David  Winner, 
the  friend  of  his  parents  :  of  Robert  Freeman,  his  ancient  fellow  ser- 
vant at  the  American  Hotel ;  of  John  R.  Hopkins,  an  intelligent  and 
practical  man,  who  examined  him  in  the  jail ;  of  Theron  R.  Green,  who 
discovered  his  insanity  in  the  State  Prison  ;  of  the  Rev.  John  M.  Aus- 
tin, the  one  good  Samaritan  who  deemed  it  a  pastoral  duty  to  visit  even 
a  supposed  murderer  in  Prison  ;  of  William  P.  Smith,  who  has  correct- 
ed now  the  error  or  his  Judgment  while  in  the  State  Prison  ;  of  Philo  H. 
Perry,  a  candid  and  enlightened  observer,  and  of  Warren  T.  Worden, 
Esq.,  a  Lawyer  of  great  shrewdness  and  sagacity. 

Then  there  is  an  overwhelming  preponderance  of  medical  testimony. 
The  witnesses  are.  Dr.  Van  Epps,  who  has  followed  the  accused  from 
his  cradle  to  the  present  hour,  with  the  interest  of  a  humane  and  sincere 
friend ;  Dr.  Fosgate,  who  attended  him  in  the  jail,  for  the  cure  of  his 


56  DEFENCE    OF 

disabled  limb  ;  Dr.  Briggs,  equal  in  public  honors  to  Dr.  Bigelow,  and 
greatly  his  superior  in  candor  as  well  as  learning,  and  who  compares  the 
prisoner  now  with  what  he  was  in  better  days  ;  Dr.  McNaughton,  of 
Albany,  and  Dr.  Hun,  of  the  same  place,  gentlemen  known  throughout 
the  whole  country  for  eminence  in  their  profession  ;  Dr.  McCall,  of 
Utica,  President  of  the  Medical  Society  of  the  State  of  New  York  ;  Dr. 
Coventry,  Professor  of  Medical  Jurisprudence  in  Geneva  College,  and 
one  of  the  Managers  of  the  State  Lunatic  Asylum  at  Utica,  and  Dr. 
Brigham,  the  experienced  and  distinguished  Superintendent  of  that  Insti- 
tution. This  last  gentleman,  after  reviewing  the  whole  case,  declares 
that  he  has  no  doubt  that  the  prisoner  is  now  insane,  and  was  so  when 
his  crimes  were  committed :  that  he  should  have  received  hira  as  a  pa- 
tient then,  on  the  evidence  given  here,  independently  of  the  crime,  and 
should  now  receive  him  upon  all  the  evidence  which  has  been  submit- 
ted to  you. 

Dr.  Brigham  pronounces  the  prisoner  to  be  a  Monomaniac  laboring 
under  the  overwhelming  progress  of  the  delusion  I  have  described,  which 
had  its  paroxysm  in  the  murders  of  which  he  is  accused ;  and  declares 
that  since  that  time  he  has  sunk  into  a  deep  and  incurable  Dementia,  the 
counter-part  of  Idiocy.  In  these  opinions,  and  in  the  reasons  for  them, 
so  luminously  assigned  by  him,  all  the  other  medical  gentlemen  concur. 

You  may  be  told,  Gentlemen,  that  Dr.  Hun  and  Dr.  McNaughton  tes- 
tified from  mere  observation  of  the  prisoner  without  personal  examina- 
tion. Yes  !  I  will  thank  the  Attorney  General  for  saying  so.  It  will 
recall  the  strangest  passages  of  all,  in  this  the  strangest  of  all  trials.  This 
is  a  trial  for  murder.  A  verdict  of  guilty  will  draw  after  it  a  sentence 
of  death.  The  only  defence  is  Insanity.  Insanity  is  to  be  teste!  by 
examining  the  prisoner  as  he  now  is,  and  comparing  him  with  what  he 
teas  when  the  crime  was  commmitted,  and  4uring  all  the  intervening  pe- 
riod, and  through  all  his  previous  life.  Dr.  Hun  and  Dr.  McNaughton 
were  served  with  subpoenas,  requiring  them  to  attend  here.  They 
came,  proceeded  to  the  jail,  and  examined  the  prisoner  on  Wednesday 
night  during  the  trial.  Early  on  Thursday  morning  they  proceeded 
again  to  the  jail  to  resume  their  examination,  and  were  then  denied  ac- 
cess. It  is  proved  that  the  Attorney  General  instructed  the  Sheriff  to 
close  the  doors  against  them,  and  the  Attorney  General  admits  it.  Dr. 
Hun  and  Dr  McNaughton  are  called  to  testify,  and  are  ready  to  testify 
that  the  examination  they  did  make,  satisfied  them  that  the  prisoner  is 
insane,  and  that  he  was  insane  when  he  committed  the  homicide.  The 
Attorney  General  objects,  and  the  Court  overrules  the  evidence,  and  de- 
cides that  these  eminent  physicians  shall  testify  only  from  mere  exter- 
nal observation  of  the  prisoner,  in  court,  and  shall  expressly  forget  and 
lay  aside  their  examinations  of  the  prisoner,  made  in  jail,  by  conversa- 


"WILLIAM    FRBEMAV- 


57 


tions  with  him.  Nor  was  the  process  by  which  the  Court  effected  this 
exclusion  less  remarkable  than  the  decision  itself.  The  Court  had  ob- 
tained a  verdict  on  the  sixth  of  July,  on  the  preliminary  issue,  that  the 
prisoner  was  sufficiently  sane  to  distinguish  right  from  wrong.  That 
verdict  has  been  neither  pleaded  nor  proved  on  this  trial,  and  if  it  had 
been,  it  would  have  been  of  no  legal  value.  Yet  the  Court  founds 
upon  it  a  Judicial  Statute  of  Limitations,  and  denies  us  all  opportunity 
to  prove  the  prisoner  insane,  after  the  sixth  of  July.  I  tremble  for  the 
jury  that  is  to  respond  to  the  popular  clamor  under  such  restraints  as 
these.  I  pray  God  that  these  Judges  may  never  experience  the  conse- 
quences which  must  follow  such  an  adjudication.  But,  Gentlemen,  Dr. 
Hun  and  Dr.  McNaughton  bear,  nevertheless,  the  strongest  testimony 
that  the  prisoner  is  an  idiot,  as  appears  by  observation,  and  that  the  evi- 
dence, as  submitted  to  them,  confirms  this  conviction. 

There  is  proof.  Gentlemen,  stronger  than  all  this.     It  is  silent,  yet  . 
speaking.     It  is  that  idiotic  smile  which  plays  continually  on  the  face  of  i 
the  maniac.     It  took  its  seat  there  while  he  was  in  the  State  Prison.     In  \ 
his  solitary  cell,  under  the  pressure  of  his  severe  tasks  and  trials  in  the 
work-shop,  and  during  the  solemnities  of  public  worship  in  the  chapel, 
it  appealed,  although  in  vain,  to  his  task  masters  and  his  teachers.     It  is 
a  smile,  never  rising  into  laughter,  without  motive  or  cause — the  smile 
of  vacuity.     His  mother  saw  it  when  he  came  out  of  Prison,  and  it  broke 
her  heart .     John  Depuy  saw  it  and  knew  his  brother  was  demented. 
Deborah  Depuy  observed  it  and  knew  him  for  a  fool.     David  Winner 
read  in  it  the  ruin  of  his  friend,  Sally's  son.     It  has  never  forsaken  him 
in  his  later  trials.     He  laughed    in  the  face  of  Parker,  while  on  con-^ 
fession  at  Baldwinsville.     He  laughed  involuntarily  in  the  faces  of  War- 
den, and  Curtis,  and  Worden,  and  Austin,  and  Bigelow,  and  Smith, 
and  Brigham,  and  Spencer.     He  laughs  perpetually  here.     Even  when 
Van  Arsdale  showed  the  scarred  traces  of  the  assassin's  knife,  and 
when  Helen  Holmes  related  the  dreadful  story  of  the  murder  of  her 
patrons  and  friends,  he  laughed.     He  laughs  while  I  am  pleading  his 
griefs.     He  laughs  when  the  Attorney  General's  bolts  would  seem  to 
rive  his  heart.     He  will  laugh  when  you  declare  him  guilty.     When  the 
Judge  shall  proceed  to  the  last  fatal  ceremony,  and  demand  what  he  has 
to  say  why  the  Sentence  of  the  Law  should  not  be  pronounced  upon  \ 
him,  although  there  should  not  be  an  unmoistened  eye  in  this  vast  as-  i 
sembly,  and  the  stern  voice  addressing  him  should  tremble  with  emotion, ; 
he  will  even  then  look  up  in  the  face  of  the  Court  and  laugh,  from  the  ;• 
irresistible  emotions  of  a  shattered  mind,  delighted  and  lost  in  the  con- 
fused memory  of  absurd  and  ridiculous  associations.     Follow  him  to  the 
scaffold.     The  executioner  cannot  disturb  the  calmness  of  the  idiot.     He  \ 
will  laugh  in  the  agony  of  death.     Do  you  not  know  the  significance  of  j 


do  DBFENCH    OF 

this  strange  and  unnatural  risibility  ?  It  is  a  proof  that  God  does  not 
forsake  even  the  poor  wretch  whom  we  pity  or  despise.  There  are  in 
every  human  memory,  a  well  of  joys  and  a  fountain  of  sorrows.  Dis- 
ease opens  wide  the  one,  and  seals  up  the  other,  forever. 

You  have  been  told,  Gentlemen,  that  this  smile  is  hereditary  and  ac- 
customed. Do  you  think  that  ever  ancestor  or  parent  of  the  prisoner,  or 
,  even  the  poor  idiot  himself,  was  in  such  straits  as  these  ?  How  then 
ican  you  think  that  this  smile  was  ever  before  recognized  by  these  wU- 
iing  witnesses  ?  That  chaotic  smile  is  the  external  derangement  which 
signifies  that  the  strings  of  the  harp  are  disordered  and  broken,  the  su- 
perficial mark  which  God  has  set  upon  the  tabernacle,  to  signify  that  its 
immortal  tenant  is  disturbed  by  a  divine  and  mysterious  commandment. 
If  you  cannot  see  it,  take  heed  that  the  obstruction  of  your  vision  be  not 
produced  by  the  mote  in  your  own  eye,  which  you  are  commanded  to 
remove  before  you  consider  the  beam  in  your  brother's  eye.  If  you  are 
bent  on  rejecting  the  testimony  of  those  who  know,  by  experience  and 
by  science,  the  deep  affliction  of  the  prisoner,  beware  how  you  misinter- 
pret the  hand  writing  of  the  Almighty. 

I  have  waited  until  now.  Gentlemen,  to  notice  some  animadversions 
oi  the  counsel  for  the  People.  They  say  that  drunkenness  will  explain 
the  conduct  of  the  prisoner.  It  is  true  that  John  Depuy  discovered  that 
those  who  retailed  poisonous  liquors  were  furnishing  the  prisoner  with 
this,  the  worst  of  food  for  his  madness.  But  the  most  laborious  inves- 
tigation has  resulted  in  showing,  by  the  testimony  of  "'^Adam  Gray,  that 
he  once  saw  the  prisoner  intoxicated,  and  that  he,  with  some  other  per- 
son, drank  spirits  in  not  immoderate  quantity,  on  the  day  when  Van  Nest 
was  slain.  There  is  no  other  evidence  that  the  prisoner  was  ever  intox- 
icated. John  Depuy  and  Ada'm  Gray  testify  that  except  that  one  time 
he  was  always  sober.  David  Winner  proves  he  was  sober  ail  the  time 
he  witness  lived  at  Willard's,  and  Mary  Ann  Newark  says  he  was  en- 
tirely sober  when  he  sallied  forth  on  his  fatal  enterprise.  The  only  val- 
ue of  the  fact  of  his  drunkenness,  if  it  existed,  would  be  to  account  for 
his  disturbed  nights  at  Depuy's,  at  Gray's,  and  at  Willard's.  It  is 
clearly  proved  that  his  mind  was  not  beclouded,  nor  his  frame  excited, 
by  any  such  cause  on  any  of  those  occasions  ;  and  Doctor  Brigham  truly 
tells  you  that  while  the  maniac  goes  quietly  to  his  bed,  and  is  driven 
from  it  by  the  dreams  of  a  disturbed  imagination,  the  drunkard  completes 
his  revels  and  his  orgies  before  he  sinks  to  rest,  and  then  lies  stupid  and 
besotted  until  nature  restores  his  wasted  energies  with  return  of  day. 

Several  of  the  prisoner's  witnesses  liave  fallen  under  the  displeasure  of 
the  Counsel  for  the  People.  John  Depuy  was  asked  on  the  trial  of  the 
preliminary  issue,  whether  he  had  not  said,  when  the  prisoner  was 
arrested,  that  he   was  no  more  crazy  than  himself.    He  answered. 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  59 

that  he  had  not  said  "in  those  words,"  and  asked  leave  to  explain 
by  stating  what  he  had  said.  The  Court  denied  him  the  right  and 
obliged  him  to  answer,  Yes  or  No,  and  of  course  he  answered  No.  On 
this  trial  he  makes  the  explanation,  that  after  the  murder  of  Van  Nest, 
being  informed  that  the  prisoner  had  threatened  his  life  he  said,  "  Bill 
would  do  well  enough  if  they  wouldn't  give  him  liquor ;  he  was  bad 
enough  at  any  time,  and  liquor  made  him  worse."  By  a  forced  construc- 
tion, this  declaration,  which  substantially  agrees  with  what  he  is  proved 
by  other  witnesses  to  have  said,  is  brought  in  conflict  with  his  narrow 
denial,  made  on  the  former  trial.  It  has  been  intimated  on  this  trial,  that 
the  Counsel  for  the  Prosecution  would  contend  that  John  Depuy  was  an 
accomplice  of  the  Prisoner  and  the  instigator  of  his  crimes.  This  cruel 
and  unfeeling  charge  has  no  ground,  even  in  imagination,  except  that 
t^relve  years  Eigo  Depuy  labored  for  six  weeks  on  the  farm  of  the  late 
Mr.  Van  Nest,  then  belonging  to  his  Father-in-law,  P^ter  Wyckoff,  that 
a  misunderstanding  arose  between  them,  which  they  adjusted  by  arbitra- 
tion and  that  they  were  friends  always  afterwards.  The  elder  Mr.  Wyc- 
koff died  six  years  ag«.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  late  Mr.  Van  Nest 
was  even  married  at  that  time.  John  Depuy  is  a  colored  man,  of  vig- 
orous frame,  and  strong  mind,  with  good  education.  His  testimony,  con- 
clusive in  this  cause,  was  intelligently  given.  He  claims  your  respect  as 
a  representative  of  his  people,  rising  to  that  equality  to  which  it  is  the 
tendency  of  our  institutions  to  bring  them.  I  have  heard  the  greatest  of 
American  Orators.  I  have  heard  Daniel  O'Connell  and  Sir  Robert  Peel, 
but  I  heard  John  Depuy  make  a  speech  excelling  them  all  in  eloquence  : 
"  They  have  made  William  Freeman  what  he  is,  a  brute  beast ;  they 
don't  make  any  thing  else  of  any  of  our  people  but  brute  beasts  ;  but  when 
we  violate  their  laws,  then  they  want  to  punish  us  as  if  we  were  men." 
I  hope  the  Attorney  General  may  press  his  charge ;  I  like  to  see  per- 
secution carried  to  such  a  length  ;  for  the  strongest  bow  when  bent  too 
far,  will  break. 

Deborah  Depuy  is  also  assailed  as  unworthy  of  credit.  She  calls  her- 
self the  wife  of  Hiram  Depuy  with  whom  she  has  lived  ostensibly  in 
that  relation  for  seven  years,  in,  I  believe,  unquestioned  fidelity  to  him 
and  her  children.  But  it  appears  that  she  has  not  been  married  with  the 
pioper  legal  solemnities.  If  she  were  a  white  woman,  I  should  regard 
her  testimony  with  caution,  but  the  securities  of  marriage  are  denied  to 
the  African  race  over  more  than  half  of  this  country.  It  is  within  our 
own  memory  that  the  master's  cupidity  could  divorce  husband  and  wife 
within  this  state,  and  sell  their  clildren  into  perpetual  bondage.  Since 
the  Act  of  Emancipation  here,  what  has  been  done  by  the  white  man  to 
lift  up  the  race  from  the  debasement  into  which  he  had  plunged  it  ?  Let 
us  impart  to  negroes  the  knowledge  and  spirit  of  Christianity,  and  share 


60  DEFENCE    OP 

with  them  the  privileges,  dignity  and  hopes  of  citizens  and  Christians, 
hefore  we  expect  of  them  purity  and  self  respect. 

But,  Gentlemen,  even  in  a  slave  state,  the  testimony  of  this  witness 
would  receive  credit  in  such  a  cause,  for  negroes  may  be  witnesses  there, 
for  and  against  persons  of  their  own  caste.  It  is  only  when  the  life, 
liberty  or  property  of  the  white  man  is  invaded,  that  the  negro  is  dis- 
qualified. Let  us  not  be  too  severe.  There  was  once  upon  the  earth  a 
Divine  Teacher  who  shall  come  again  to  judge  the  world  in  righteous- 
ness. They  brought  to  him  a  woman  taken  in  adultery,  and  said  to  him 
that  the  law  of  Moses  directed  that  such  should  be  stoned  to  death,  and 
he  answered  :  *•  Let  him  that  is  without  sin  cast  the  first  stone." 

The  testimony  of  Sally  Freeman,  the  mother  of  the  prisoner,  is  ques- 
tioned. She  utters  the  voice  of  nature.  She  is  the  guardian  whom  God 
assigned  to  study,  to  watch,  to  learn,  to  know  what  the  prisoner  was, 
and  is,  and  to  cherish  the  memory  of  it  forever.  She  could  not  forget  it 
if  she  would.  There  is  not  a  blemish  on  the  person  of  any  one  of  us, 
born  with  us  or  coming  from  disease  or  accident,  nor  have  we  committed 
a  right  or  wrong  action,  that  has  not  been  treasured  up  in  the  memory 
of  a  mother.  Juror  !  roll  up  the  sleeve  from  your  manly  arm,  and  you 
will  find  a  scar  there  of  which  you  know  nothing.  Your  mother  will 
give  you  the  detail  of  every  day's  progress  of  the  preventive  disease. — 
Sally  Freeman  has  the  mingled  blood  of  the  African  and  Indian  races. 
She  is  nevertheless  a  woman,  and  a  mother,  and  nature  bears  witness  in 
every  climate  and  in  every  country,  to  the  singleness  and  uniformity  of 
those  characters.  I  have  known  and  proved  them  in  the  hovel  of  the 
slave,  and  in  the  wigwam  of  the  Chippewa.  But  Sally  Freeman  has 
been  intemperate.  The  white  man  enslaved  her  ancestors  of  the  one  race, 
exiled  and  destroyed  those  of  the  other,  and  debased  them  all  by  corrupt- 
ing their  natural  and  healthful  appetites.  She  comes  honestly  by  her  only 
vice.  Yet  when  she  comes  here  to  testify  for  a  life  that  is  dearer  to  her 
than  her  own,  to  say  she  knows  her  own  son,  the  white  man  says  she 
is  a  drunkard  !  May  Heaven  forgive  the  white  man  for  adding  this  last, 
this  cruel  injury  to  the  wrongs  of  such  a  mother !  Fortunately,  Gentle- 
men, her  character  and  conduct  are  before  you.  No  woman  ever  ap- 
peared with  more  decency,  modesty,  and  propriety,  than  she  has  ex- 
hibited here.  No  witness  has  dared  to  say  or  think  that  Sally  Free- 
man is  not  a  woman  of  truth.  Dr.  Clary,  a  witness  for  the  prosecution, 
who  knows  her  well,  says,  that  with  all  her  infirmities  of  temper  and  of  hab- 
it, Sally  *•  was  always  a  truthful  woman."  The  Roman  Cornelia  could 
not  have  claimed  more.     Let  then  the  stricken  mother  testify  for  her  son. 

"  I  ask  not,  I  care  not,  if  guilt 's  in  that  heart, 
I  know  that  I  love  thee,  wiiatover  thou  art." 

The  learned  gentlemen  who  conduct  this  prosecution  have  attempted 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  61 

to  show  that  the  prisoner  attended  the  trial  of  Henry  Wyatt,  whom  I  de- 
fended against  an  indictment  for  murder,  in  this  Court,  in  February  last ; 
that  he  listened  to  me  on  that  occasion,  in  regard  to  the  impurity  of  crime, 
and  that  he  went  out  a  ripe  and  complete  scholar.  So  far  as  these  re- 
flections affect  me  alone,  they  are  unworthy  of  an  answer.  I  pleaded 
for  Wyatt  then,  as  it  was  my  right  and  my  duty  to  do.  Let  the  Counsel 
for  the  People  prove  the  words  I  spoke,  before  they  charge  me  with 
Freeman's  crimes.  I  am  not  unwilling  those  words  should  be  re- 
called. I  am  not  unwilling  that  any  words  I  ever  spoke  in  any  re- 
sponsible relation  should  be  remembered.  Since  they  will  not  recall 
those  words,  I  will  do  so  for  them.  They  were  words  like  those  I 
speak  now,  demanding  cautious  and  impartial  justice ;  words  appealing 
to  the  reason,  to  the  consciences,  to  the  humanity  of  my  fellow  men ; 
words  calculated  to  make  mankind  know  and  love  each  other  better,  and 
adopt  the  benign  principles  of  Christianity,  instead  of  the  long  cherish- 
ed maxims  of  retaliation  and  revenge.  The  creed  of  Mahomet  was  pro- 
mulgated at  a  time  when  paper  was  of  inestimable  value,  and  the  Koran 
teaches  that  every  scrap  of  paper  which  the  believer  has  saved  during 
his  life,  will  gather  itself  under  his  feet,  to  protect  them  from  the  burn- 
ing iron  which  he  must  pass  over,  while  entering  into  Paradise.  Re- 
gardless as  I  have  been  of  the  unkind  construction  of  my  words  and  ac- 
tions by  my  contemporaries,  I  can  say  in  all  humility  of  spirit,  that  they 
are  freely  left  to  the  ultimate,  impartial  consideration  of  mankind.  But, 
Gentlemen,  how  gross  is  the  credulity  implied  by  this  charge  !  This 
stupid  idioti  who  cannot  take  into  his  ears,  deaf  as  death,  the  words 
which  I  am  speaking  to  you,  though  I  stand  within  three  feet  of  him, 
and  who'even  now  is  exchanging  smiles  with  his  and  my  accusers,  re- 
gardless of  the  deep  anxiety  depicted  in  your  countenances,  was  stand- 
ing at  yonder  post,  sixty  feet  distant  from  me,  when  he  was  here,  if  he 
was  here  at  all,  on  the  trial  of  Henry  Wyatt.  The  voice  of  the  District 
Attornej'^reverberates  through  this  dome,  while  mine  is  lost  almost  with- 
in the  circle  of  the  bar.  It  does  not  appear  that  it  was  not  that  voice 
that  beguiled  the  maniac,  instead  of  mine  ;  and  certain  it  is  that,  since 
the  prisoner  does  not  comprehend  the  object  of  his  attendance  here  now, 
he  could  not  have  understood  anything  that  occurred  on  the  trial  of  Wy- 
att. 

Gentleman,  my  responsibilities  in  this  cause  are  discharged.  In  the 
earnestness  and  seriousness  with  which  I  have  pleaded,  you  will  find 
the  reason  for  the  firmness  with  which  I  have  resisted  the  popular  pas- 
sions around  me.  I  am  in  some  degree  responsible  like  every  other  citi- 
zen, for  the  conduct  of  the  community  in  which  I  live.  They  may  not 
inflict  on  a  Maniac  the  punishment  of  a  Malefactor,  without  involving 
me  in  blame,  if  I  do  not  remonstrate.     I  cannot  afford  to  be  in  error, 


62  DEFENCE    OP 

abroad,  and  in  future  times.  If  I  were  capable  of  a  sentiment  so  cruel 
and  so  base,  I  ought  to  hope  for  the  conviction  of  the  accused ;  for  then 
the  vindictive  passions,  now  so  highly  excited,  would  subside,  the  con- 
sciences of  the  wise  and  the  humane  would  be  awakened,  and  in  a  few 
months,  the  invectives  which  have  so  long  pursued  jne,  would  be  hurled 
against  the  Jury  and  the  Court. 

You  have  now  the  fate  of  this  lunatic  in  your  hands.  To  him  as  to 
me,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  it  is  comparatively  indifferent  what  be  the 
issue.  The  wisest  of  modern  men  has  left  us  a  saying,  that  "  the  hour 
of  death  is  more  fortunate  than  the  hour  of  birth,"  a  saying  which  he 
signalized  by  bestowing  a  gratuity  twice  as  great  upon  the  place  where 
he  died  as  upon  the  hamlet  where  he  was  born.  For  aught  that  we  can 
judge,  the  prisoner  is  unconscious  of  danger  and  would  be  insensible  to 
suffering,  let  it  come  when  it  might.  A  verdict  can  only  hasten,  by  a 
few  months  or  years,  the  time  when  his  bruised,  diseased,  wandering 
and  benighted  spirit  shall  return  to  Him  who  sent  it  forth  on  its  sad  and 
dreary  pilgrimage. 

The  circumstances  under  which  this  trial  closes  are  peculiar.  I  have 
seen  capital  cases  where  the  parents,  brothers,  sisters,  friends  of  the  ac- 
cused surrounded  him,  eagerly  hanging  upon  the  lips  of  his  advocate,  and 
watching,  in  the  countenances  of  the  court  and  jury,  every  smile  andfrown 
which  might  seem  to  indicate  his  fate.  But  there  is  no  such  scene 
here.  The  prisoner,  though  in  the  greenness  of  youth,  is  withered,, de- 
cayed, senseless,  almost  lifeless.  He  has  no  father  here.  The  descen- 
dant of  slaves,  that  father  died  a  victim  to  the  vices  of  a  superior  race. 
There  is  no  mother  here,  for  her  child  is  stained  and  polluted  with  the 
blood  of  mothers  and  of  a  sleeping  infant ;  and  "  he  looks  and  laughs 
80  that  she  cannot  bear  to  look  upon  him."  There  is  no  brother,  or  sis- 
ter,, or  friend  here.  Popular  rage  against  the  accused  has  driven  them 
hence,  and  scattered  his  kindred  and  people.  On  the  other  side  I  notice 
the  aged  and  venerable  parents  of  Van  Nest  and  his  surviving^  children, 
and  all  around  are  mourning  and  sympathizing  friends.  I  know  not  at 
whose  instance  they  have  come.  I  dare  not  say  they  ought  not  to  be 
here.  But  I  must  say  to  you  that  we  live  in  a  christian  and  not  in  a  sav- 
age state,  and  that  the  affliction  which  has  fallen  upon  these  mourners 
and  us,  was  sent  to  teach  them  and  us  mercy  and  not  retaliation  ;  that 
although  we  may  send  this  maniac  to  the  scaffold,  it  will  not  recall  to 
life  the  manly  form  of  Van  Nest,  nor  reanimate  the  exhausted  frame  of 
that  aged  matrom,  nor  restore  to  life,  and  grace,  and  beauty,  the  murder- 
ed mother,  nor  call  back  the  infant  boy  from  the  arms  of  his  Savior. — 
Such  a  verdict  can  do  no  good  to  the  living,  and  carry  no  joy  to  the  dead. 
If  your  judgment  shall  be  swayed  at  all  by  sympathies  so  wrong,  al- 
though so  natural,  you  will  find  the  saddest  hour  of  your  life  to  be  that 


WILLIAM    FREEMAN.  63 

in  which  you  will  look  down  upon  the  grave  of  your  victim,  and  "mourn 
with  compunctious  sorrow"  that  you  should  have  done  so  great  injustice 
to  the  "  poor  handful  of  earth  that  will  lie  moulderin'g  before  you." 

I  have  been  long  and  tedious.  I  remember  that  it  is  the  harvest  moon, 
and  that  every  hour  is  precious  while  you  are  detained  from  your  yellow 
fields.  But  if  you  shall  have  bestowed  patient  attention  throughout  this 
deeply  interesting  investigation,  and  shall  in  the  end  have  discharged 
your  duties  in  the  fear  of  God  and  in  the  love  of  truth  justly  and  inde- 
pendently, you  will  have  laid  up  a  store  of  blessed  recollections  for  all 
your  future  days,  imperishable  and  inexhaustible. 


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